Wolfrum
by Samadhir
Summary: As the army of Urthblood prepares for their journey to Redwall Abbey, Mykola the Swordfox gets the responsibility of looking after Wolfrum, one of the "problem soldiers" under the badger's command. Based on "The Crimson Badger" by Highwing.
1. Chapter 1

Wolfrum – An Urthblood Saga Fanfic

_Greetings, fellow Fanfictioneers! _

_This little number is the first chapter in what I hope to be a complete story based on Highwing's magnificent epic "The Crimson Badger", the first book in the Redwall-based Urthblood Saga. It's written to express my great love for his work, and to fill in the gaps and flesh out a character that, as you'll know if you've read my reviews on this site, I've always had a strange fascination, even sympathy, with: Wolfrum. _

_This story takes place during the events of TCB told from the perspective of other characters, both Highwing's established ones and my own original. Needless to say, this story will contain heavy spoilers for Wing's work, so if you don't want important plot points revealed to you, I suggest you read The Crimson Badger first, located here: __.net/s/6788438/1/The_Crimson_Badger_Book_I_The_Warlord_

_I want to give a very special thanks to Highwing for the tremendous help he's been in editing this story, as well as to provide feedback and suggestions for improvement. His help has been so substantial that I almost consider it as much his work as mine. My heartfelt gratitude to you, Ol' Featherbag!_

_Aside from Wing's own magnum opus, my main inspiration for this story is the Swedish book "Lasermannen: En Berättelse Om Sverige" ("The Laser Man: A Story About Sweden"), a biography of John Ausonius, a serial killer who targeted immigrants in Stockholm in the early 90's, armed with a laser-scoped rifle. If you think that's a weird source of inspiration for a Redwall-fanfic, well, hopefully I can explain more fully later._

_I hope you will enjoy this tale, and that it will give you something to hold you over while we wait for "The Shrew War". _

_Samadhir_

"Alright, you mangy lieabouts, get ready to march!"

Mykola strode along the lines of soldiers as they positioned themselves for inspection. Everybeast he passed stood at attention as the fox paced before the lower ranks.

Camped on the northern edges of Mossflower, the army of the Badger Lord Urthblood were sheltered under the dense foliage of nature's proud giants - beech, elm, chestnut and oak. An extended rest in the cool shades was their deserving reward for their latest victory: vanquishing the flock of villainous ravens and crows who'd fancied themselves warlords and conquerors. The feathered foebirds' delusions had been put to a swift and merciless end when the hardened warriors under the standard of the Crimson Badger had swarmed upon them, killing the head-raven Girsha and scattering the survivors. Those winged refugees would spread the word of these new defenders of the lands to any other would-be troublemakers who might seek to blight Mossflower with their presence.

This latest battle, fierce as it had been, was in truth little more than a diversion from the army's main objective. Urthblood had been planning to visit Mossflower for quite some time. For twenty seasons he'd struggled to pacify and tame the Northlands, driven by a dire prophecy of catastrophe, but news of his exploits had yet to reach the more southernly lands. Determined to rectify this situation, he had given the order for a sizeable detachment of his troops, over half a thousand strong, to commence a southward march. The badger was not among them at present, for several days earlier he had left his troops to travel alone to the most famous landmark in Mossflower: Redwall Abbey. His army would soon follow him to this legendary sanctuary, and Urthblood expected his soldiers to be on their best behaviour; he sought to make a favourable impression on the Redwallers, and with over half the forces in the detachment being vermin, it was that much more important that they behave properly and civilly. Anybeast who gave the Abbeydwellers reason to regret Urthblood's arrival at their home would bear the brunt of his wrath, and they had seen the results of that enough times to fear it above everything else.

Not that such intimidations applied to Mykola or any of his fellow swordfoxes. Indeed, they were the ones who doled out intimidation as a living extension of Lord Urthblood's will. Like the others of his special brigade, the bladebeast commanded great respect and fear from the vermin ranks, his black uniform jacket marking him as one of Urthblood's elite enforcers. Aside from their uncanny skills as both warriors and healers in the badger's army, their main duty was to maintain discipline and order in the lower ranks, particularly among the vermin. Many of these rats, weasels, stoats and ferrets had been forcefully recruited from defeated bandit gangs and plundering hordes and pressed into Urthblood's service. Despite all attempts to reform them and mold them into proper soldiers, old ways died hard, and they often needed a strong guiding paw to keep them from reverting to their old villainous selves. The swordfoxes provided just that kind of guidance, and had averted several disasters in the past, when unruly or rebellious elements in the badger's forces had tried to assert themselves.

Mykola had a bit of a problem, however, when it came to asserting his dominance in this regard. Ever since birth, his left leg had been slightly shorter than the right, causing him to walk with a slight wobble - not enough to hamper his combat skills, for then he would never have been inducted into the swordfox brigade - but just enough that he could give an unfortunately comical impression to the creatures he was supposed to cow into submission.

On this day, preparations were underway for the final leg of the Northlanders' march into Mossflower and thence to Redwall, where Urthblood even now shared the news of his prophecy and his unorthodox campaigns with the Abbey leaders, and plied his diplomatic paw in hopes of establishing an alliance with them.

As he made his way down the front line of Captain Cermak's rat platoon, Mykola couldn't help but spot the bruised snout and swollen eye on one all-too-familiar face. Wolfrum looked even more sullen and moody than usual as he stood next to his comrades, who this morning gave off an air of bare tolerance. Another fight for the trouble-prone rodent, it seemed.

Mykola paused and cast a brief gaze on Wolfrum, who seemed unsure whether he should display shame before settling on a look of worn defiance instead. The fox gave an inward sigh; this particular rat was only too well known as one of the "problem soldiers" in Urthblood's army who had to be watched with special care. And usually fell to Mykola to do the watching where Wolfrum was concerned.

He turned from the recalcitrant rat and hitch-stepped over to his commander Machus the Sword, leader of the swordfox brigade. Alongside the senior fox stood Lady Mina, the lone representative of the Gawtrybe squirrels who'd accompanied this army south on its march to Mossflower.

Machus received his underling's salute. "How are things looking with the troops, Mykola?"

"Good, for the most part. Rested and ready for the journey to Redwall. Most are in high spirits and eager for their assignments."

"Most?"

Mykola paused uncomfortably before continuing. Little got by Machus, and it was best to be entirely forthcoming with the Sword.

"Looks like a little trouble with the rats again. Nothing serious, just the usual scrapes and bruises. If you'd like, I can talk to the beasts involved ... smooth things over, make sure there's not a repeat …"

"It's Wolfrum, isn't it?" Machus surmised.

Mykola returned his commander's gaze without flinching. "'Fraid so. You know how he is; temperamental, he has trouble relating to other beasts, and he has problems with authority figures …"

"He'd best not have a problem with THIS authority figure." Machus idly pawed at the hilt of his sword. "Squabbles among the rank-and-file within their own platoons is a matter for the squad captains. Have Cermak handle this."

"From what I've heard of this Wolfrum," Lady Mina interjected, "he strikes me as an irresponsible, selfish, violent lout. I don't understand why Urthblood would keep a beast like that under arms. If it were up to me, I would've had him slain when we sorted out the survivors of that robber band he travelled with."

Machus shot Mina a cautionary glace. "Lord Urthblood makes those decisions, My Lady, not you ... or I. Or do you doubt his ... vision?"

Mina shrugged. "Even Lord Urthblood has been known to make mistakes."

"Not many, or else we would not be standing here on the northern fringes of Mossflower, with the Northlands half-tamed behind us."

Mykola cleared his throat for the attention of his two superiors. "I know Wolfrum's a bit of a pawful at times, but he's still a competent soldier in the right situations. He's never done anything to merit discharge from the army… or execution. If you will just let me talk with him, I'm sure this can all be sorted out without the need for any official disciplinary action."

Machus sighed. "I appreciate your concern for the soldiers, Mykola, but this is an army, not a nursery. The time you spend counselling the troublesome elements of our forces could be better spent on more important matters. What they need, especially the vermin, is stern discipline and severe reprimands when they step out of line. That has always been Lord Urthblood's way, and our way as well. The way you pamper them… I'm afraid it will just make them go soft, or even inspire them to further troublemaking if they believe they can get away with it."

"Or maybe it will give them a new kind of respect for their officers," Mykola countered. "Isn't that also what Lord Urthblood stands for - treating all creatures with respect and dignity so that they will come to respect themselves? You know how the lower ranks feel about us foxes. They think we're aloof and haughty, having these fine swords specially crafted for us, being so close to Urthblood and drilling and eating and sleeping apart from the others. Isn't the best way to dispel that resentment to actually take the time occasionally to talk to these beasts, get to know them and try to resolve their problems in ways that doesn't involve harsh words, beatings or reassignment to latrine duty?"

Machus smirked at Mykola's choice of words, but quickly turned serious again. "How they think of us now is exactly how we want them to think of us ... and why we set ourselves apart from the other squads. These are armed and fighting vermin, not innocent babes with wooden toy swords. When discipline is necessary, it must be dispensed with cold efficiency, without misplaced feelings of camaraderie getting in the way or clouding our judgment. There are five-hundred-and-eighty-two beasts in this detachment last time I checked – and yes, I do take the time to know these things. How can they be expected to get along with woodlanders and decent folk if they can't even get along with each other? They've had plenty of time to learn how to do just that - and the squad captains are there to settle any squabbles that can't be settled on their own. Let's face it, if a problem grows to the point where I or one of my other foxes is forced to become involved, it's a problem that has moved beyond mere words."

Mykola couldn't help but shuffle his slightly shorter left hindpaw in the grass during his captain's discourse, although he kept his expression professional and soldierly. "Well… doesn't the well-being of our beasts mean something too?"

It was Lady Mina who responded instead of Machus.

"We are preparing for a journey to Redwall Abbey. Those upstanding beasts have never seen an army of this size or composition before, and they certainly haven't seen armed rats or weasels traveling along with woodlanders and behaving like decent, civilized creatures. It is of utmost importance that our troops are on their best behaviour, if we want to make allies out of the Abbeybeasts, and we cannot get the vermin to pull themselves together on such short notice with kind words and friendly pats on the back."

"Yes, I know. But I really think my approach would be better for this particular situation. Wolfrum looks like he got the worst of that scrape; any further discipline from his superiors would probably only make things worse."

Machus considered Mykola's plea. "Very well. Normally I would let Captain Cermak handle such discipline within his own ranks - if he even decides it's a matter requiring his attention. But I agree that there's really no need to further aggravate matters by dishing out punishments just as we're about to begin our journey southward. Have a word with Cermak first so that he knows what you're about, and I'll let you try and sort this out the way you prefer to."

As Mykola thanked the fox captain, the squirrel Lady addressed him once more.

"Mykola, let me just say that I do admire the way you try to connect with the lower ranks and take care of their problems. I know that you've been able to handle these kinds of situations in your own manner before, and I think it's noble of you the way you can relate with the beasts and take your time to help them."

She then locked her eyes with that of the limping fox.

"But in this case … Wolfrum may be beyond such kindnesses. As I understand it, he barely responds to the reprimands Machus and Cermak dish out. Sooner or later, that rat is liable to do something so foolish that we'll have to remove him from the army permanently … one way or the other. I won't hesitate to take action myself if I'm there when that time comes, and I know Machus won't either. What about you?"

Mykola returned Mina's gaze with an imploring one of his own.

"No, Lady, he barely responds to reprimands anymore; on that we both agree. And that's entirely my point. I've spoken with Wolfrum several times; I know him better than either of you. He does have better sides to his nature, sides that tend to stay hidden under a tense military regimen. He's hardly got a heart of gold beneath that gruff exterior, but I truly believe he holds promise we've not seen yet - the promise Lord Urthblood saw in him when he took Wolfrum into his service. If you just give me the chance to connect with him more fully when time allows, I promise I will do what I can to turn him into a proper goodbeast … or at least a proper soldier."

The squirrel sighed and lowered her head.

"I hope you're right, Mykola, I really do. Because if he does step out of line again, especially at Redwall …"

Mykola repressed a gulp, realizing the implications of Lady Mina's warning. Nothing must go wrong at Redwall - nothing at all. The stakes were simply too high.

And that was the responsibility Mykola had just taken on for himself.

00000000000

"You want my advice, matey? Don't go makin' this anymore difficult fer yerself than you hafta. You know me 'n' Mikky're there fer you, we can talk about this an' sort it out without gettin' anybeast's fur mussed. Just don't cause a scene, 'cos that'd be the absolute worst thing you could do right now."

Liam's steadying paw kept a firm grip on his fellow rat's shoulder as they stood in formation. While Wolfrum bristled at being spoken to like an upset infant within earshot of his comrades, he knew better than to reject his friend's calming overtures. If anybeast other than Liam or Mykola stuck their snout into this mess and saw fit to start dishing out reprimands, he knew his troubles would only grow. And so the battered rodent drew a deep, laboured breath and let the insults and jabs from the soldiers alongside him wash over him, as hard as it was. Maybe he could pay them back more discreetly sometime in the future…

Forced to the front ranks by his antagonistic comrades in hopes that his marks and bruises might single him out for chastisement, Wolfrum's fur rippled in agitation at the injustice of it all, and from the pain he still felt from last night's incident. It had started during the battle against Girsha's birds; Wolfrum and a few other rats from his platoon had gotten separated from the main force during the vicious fighting. Left no choice but to make their way through the woods in hopes of rejoining their squad, they ended up losing themselves so thoroughly in the unfamiliar forest that they soon found themselves at the back of the enemy line. Which was not all bad, for soon they caught sight of Girsha himself, squawking out orders to every enemy bird within range of his caws. The amulets shining against the sleek black neck feathers and the rings decorating his talons left no doubt that this was indeed the raven lord Urthblood sought to bring down.

Wolfrum saw this as his personal moment, an opportunity to distinguish himself in battle. His small party lacked any commanding officers, freeing him to take any action he saw fit. He grabbed a spear from another rat and hissed at his companions to hold their position while he sneaked up behind the leaderbird, intending to be the one to bring down the enemy general singlepawed. Before he could draw within striking range, however, an unseen crow swooped down from a nearby tree, shrieking a warning to its master. Wolfrum unexpectedly found himself facing off against two formidable winged fighters at once.

The uproar of the struggle reached the waiting rats, but only Kefrin ran to his aid, brandishing his sword and taking a swing at the crow. This diversion had allowed Wolfrum to rally and stab Girsha in the side underneath his wing. The raven tried to fly away, but the wound made him stumble and fall upon his beak during his attempt. He should have been an easy target for Wolfrum.

Unfortunately, Kefrin wasn't very accomplished with his weapon; he served mostly as an errand rat in the army, taking messages, foraging, working as an advance scout and helping out the cook Gratch with meals. Capitalizing on his opponent's lack of skill, the crow quickly disarmed Kefrin and pushed him to the ground, harrying the rat with beak and talon. Kefrin had screamed for Wolfrum to help, but greed for personal glory won out, and after the merest moment's hesitation, Wolfrum turned to slay his quarry.

But that moment's hesitation was all Girsha needed; while Wolfrum had looked toward his besieged comrade, the raven managed to lift off and fly through the forest just beyond spear reach. Wolfrum would later learn that Girsha ultimately crashed into the midst of an otter brigade and was slain by the waterbeasts' javelins. Not that this fitting end to the feathered tyrant served Wolfrum's quest for glory one whit.

Raging at this missed opportunity, he ran back to the struggling rat only to discover that the crow had stabbed out one of Kefrin's eyes and torn open his throat. Wolfrum slew the bird before it had a chance to turn about and fully face him, then knelt at Kefrin's side. The stricken rodent spasmed and shook, blood gushing from his mouth and throat, then went still. The other rats finally chose that moment to pluck up their courage and come forward, only to find Kefrin's face and neck torn apart, while Wolfrum stood by seemingly unharmed and with nothing to show for his valiant efforts. The accusing looks they traded were as cold as Northlands snow.

Perhaps it was inevitable. Kefrin had been well liked. Wolfrum was not. The previous night, a group of rats and weasels had set upon Wolfrum as payback for what they considered his part in Kefrin's death. After a short struggle, a weasel had locked Wolfrum's paws behind his back and a rag had been stuffed into his maw to keep his cries from being heard, after which his assailants took turns punching and kicking him in his chest and stomach and groin. The assault concluded with a stinging slap across the face that made his eyeball turn somersaults in its socket, then they released him and left him splayed on the ground, vomiting from the pain.

Throughout the beating, Wolfrum had glimpsed the shadowy silhouette of a swordfox, leaning against a tree about twenty paces away. The red-furred bastard had watched calmly while Wolfrum's tormentors rained down their blows against him, not stirring a paw to stop the abuse. When the rat had looked up from his retching, the impassive figure was gone.

The swordfox's reaction - or lack thereof - hardly surprised him. Wolfrum had long been on the bad side of the bladebeasts, and several other officers as well. The unsympathetic commanders were probably only too happy to see him receive a good threshing once in a while. Cermak in particular hated him, regarding Wolfrum as an exemplar of all the worst stereotypes about their species (as if that son of a whore, recruited by Urthblood from a former slaver gang, was any better). And while you could get back at your equals in various ways if you were careful and imaginative, trying to physically settle a score with an officer was liable to earn you an equally severe beating for your troubles, and if you went against a swordfox you would wind up in a shallow grave before you knew it. That was the worst part: the unfairness of it all, the stacked deck which could leave an unpopular soldier utterly helpless from bullying. Sometimes he daydreamed that Cermak and most of the foxes would die violent and painful deaths in some future battle, preferably while Wolfrum was close enough to ignore their pleading cries for him to save them.

Wolfrum liked those daydreams.

But not every superior was a personal enemy. One of the few creatures in Urthblood's army who viewed Wolfrum with something less than total vitriol was Mykola, probably the only swordfox who didn't act like a stuck-up git. And then there was Liam, a young sergeant in Wolfrum's own platoon who commanded enormous respect from the ranks above and below due to his courage, openness and the care and dedication he showed to every rat under his command. Both Mykola and Liam had stepped forward to help him out with some of his past episodes and incidents, dissuading reprisals from his fellow soldiers and more severe disciplines from the higher officers. Sometimes Wolfrum wondered if he was still alive thanks to their efforts.

Liam was right; best to just get through this day, and when he had a moment for himself later tonight, he could speak with Mykola. The sympathetic fox would surely understand that Wolfrum didn't get Kefrin killed, and that the unprovoked assault on him was entirely unjustified. Hopefully, he could also convince Mykola to give his wounds some attention; it wouldn't surprise him if the aching in his chest signified a cracked rib or two, and he really hoped that the intermittent stabs of pain between his legs were merely the result of an unfortunately placed bruising…

A pair of swordfoxes - neither of them Mykola - strolled by on their final inspection of the massive multispecies formation awaiting the call to begin the march to Redwall. Wolfrum looked forward to the visit with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. On one paw, the Abbey was renowned for its hospitality, its welcoming atmosphere and the lavish meals its residents enjoyed on a regular basis; Wolfrum had long believed that the sting of his fellow soldiers' hostility toward him would be blunted by a decent hot meal and a warm, soft bed every night instead of the bland hardtack rations and bare ground that was usually a campaigner's lot. Then again, he had never gotten along well with woodlanders, and his superiors knew it. More than once his back had known the cane's lash due to discourtesy towards some stupid mouse or hedgehog villager. It was a minor miracle he hadn't gotten into worse trouble; he still shuddered at the fate which had nearly befallen that stoat now permanently chained to a member of the mouse platoon, and while Wolfrum's transgressions hadn't been nearly as bad as the stoat's, he would still have to tread carefully during his stay at Redwall so that no Abbeybeast went running to Machus with complaints over a muttered grumble or dour glance from the visiting rat.

And then the inspection rounds were completed and the commanding officers took their places at the front of their respective platoons. Machus could be heard in the distance, giving the order to be underway. The order was relayed down the lines, hundreds of beasts long, until Captain Cermak shouted out for his rats to begin marching. Still wincing a bit at the aches and twinges from his beating, Wolfrum fell into step behind the shrew brigade in front of him. Doing his best to ignore the palpable enmity of his immediate "comrades" - and what a misleading term that was for fellow creatures-in-arms who would so grievously mistreat one of their own - Wolfrum hoped the army didn't break into one of their ridiculous marching songs. Even if the tone-deaf rat hadn't been blessed with a singing voice that could drive an elderly rabbit-mother to murder, his tortured chest wouldn't have welcomed such an exertion. Oh, well - he could always just move his lips and fake it. He often did anyway.

And thus did Urthblood's army begin its march to rejoin its erstwhile master at Redwall Abbey. And most of the marchers, including Wolfrum and Mykola, held a strong sense that this visit would be the beginning of something new and significant, for the lands of Mossflower and maybe for themselves as well…


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

_Greetings once, again!_

_Sorry about the wait between the previous chapter and this one. I hope it will be good enough to be worth it. _

_In case you're wondering from my last introduction, the parts from the "Laser-man" book that inspired me mostly revolves around Ausonius' entrance into military life, and all the problems he encountered there. It gave me ideas for how to portray Wolfrum in my story. Mykola is heavily based on an officer in his platoon who felt a certain kinship with him, and the interactions between the two has many parallels in this fic. _

_As with last time, I'm very grateful to Highwing for taking so much time and effort to edit this chapter into some semblance of a good story. Without his help I'm not sure if I could've undertaken this project. My greatest respects go out to you, Ol' Featherbag_

_Also, remember that this is a fanfic of Highwing's "The Crimson Badger", a Redwall-based fanfic in turn, and contains heavy spoilers for it. Read at your own discretion. _

The army had been making their way towards Redwall Abbey for about half a marching day when the storm hit.

Because they wished to rejoin Lord Urthblood as soon as possible, they'd marched at a quickened pace without breaks, taking their meals on the go; the promise of a long rest and good food and fresh drinking water would hopefully dampen any complaints from the tired soldiers. In the early stages of their march Klystra, Urthblood's messenger falcon, flew down to the head of the column to take the report of the battle against Girsha's flock from Machus and Lady Mina. The winged warrior quickly returned to the skies to relay the news to the badger awaiting them at Redwall.

Before the day was over, the fighters marching under the standard of the Crimson Badger would have cause to envy the falcon's ability to cover distances in hours that would take days for a ground beast to travel. During the late afternoon, as the sun lowered toward the western mountains, a thick, ominous blanket of dark clouds appeared above the entire eastern horizon. It quickly spread to cover the sky overhead, and soon the thundering, swollen stormclouds had plunged the lands into a deep summer gloom, and the Northlanders felt the patter of raindrops against their fur.

The soldierbeasts were accustomed to marching in the rain, since Urthblood's campaigns often required them to march in any kind of weather. But the first heavy patters upon leaf and ground quickly turned into an all-out downpour, pelting them from all directions with a vicious torrent that drenched the unprotected mass of creatures. The thick, black clouds turned the summer afternoon into a darkness nearly as impenetrable as deep night, punctuated by the frequent flashes and bursts of lightning. The roars of thunder, like the very world threatening to come apart, were more felt than heard, almost lost amid the pounding rainfall. To top it off, the storm also brought with it a sudden drop in temperature, cooling the warm summer day to an autumnal chill. The Northlanders were outfitted for the mild, sunny days of Mossflower, and hadn't brought along any heavy garments or rain gear either, and they were quickly soaked to their pelts.

As the storm reached its crescendo, Machus shouted out a halt to the army, convening a hasty gathering of the captains to discuss how they should proceed. Saybrook, whose otters gave not a care about wet fur, suggested they double their pace to attain the protection of Redwall as quickly as possible, but the swordfox realized there was no way to hold the column together in the dark and thundering chaos, and the roads would soon turn muddy and difficult for the already exhausted soldiers. Night was fast approaching, so there was nothing to do but settle down where they were and hope that the storm had passed by morning. If it hadn't, they would at least be able to see better during the day. Not that they were likely to get much rest; the cold wetness and the claps of thunder were enough to disrupt the slumbers of even the soundest sleepers amongst them.

The decision made, the captains lit some covered lanterns supplied by the Foremole's Tunnel and Trencher Corps and swung them above their heads to guide their platoons deeper into the woods where the forest canopy might shield them from the worst of the downpour. The various species huddled together underneath the pines, oaks and elms, taking out their rations for a quick meal and trying to prepare themselves for what was sure to be a long and unpleasant night.

Although he was no more comfortable than anybeast else, Mykola did welcome the inclement weather in at least one regard. He'd had a word with Cermak during the day, and while the rat captain seemed to share Machus and Mina's reservations about Wolfrum's rehabilitation, Cermak had given his permission to let Mykola do what he could for the troublesome rodent. Borrowing another lantern from the moles, the fox sought out the rat brigades through the slanting rain. He had the good fortune of finding Liam almost immediately; the rat sergeant was braving the rain to walk between the seated groups to offer what scant encouragement he could to raise their spirits. Liam knew were Wolfrum was, and left straightaway to fetch him from his solitary spot on the outskirts of the encampment. Returning with the sullen, bruised rat, Liam was happy to let Mykola take temporary custody of Wolfrum. The fox had found a low-hanging spruce, a little secluded from the others, and bade his forlorn companion to accompany him there now.

Mykola set the lantern down on the ground beneath the branches while Wolfrum settled himself against the trunk with an audible groan. The fox opened his small rucksack and pulled out a canteen, offering it to his companion. The rat accepted it and took a swig, then coughed at the unexpected mellow burning as the beverage ran down his throat.

"Gargh! What's in that flask?" he asked, turning his surprised gaze toward the fox and wiping the drink from his chin.

"Brandy," Mykola responded. "We foxes sometimes carry it with us. Privilege of the rank, you see!" His smirk was returned by a quizzical (and quite envious) look from Wolfrum. "But seriously, it's meant to aid us in our healing duties - to disinfect wounds, dampen the pain for our patients in an emergency, that sort of thing. I think I should take a look at some of those bruises you're carrying, so you might want to drink a little more."

Wolfrum complied, downing a couple more swallows of the liquor; it wasn't too often you were given a chance to do that in Urthblood's disciplined forces. The fox began his examination by tilting the rat's head towards the light of the lantern to get a good look at his swollen right eye.

"Well, it doesn't look too bad. The swelling's gone down since this morning. Might've helped ease the pain if you'd had a wet cloth pressed against it, no matter now. It will go down completely by itself soon."

Mykola moved on to the rat's battered and bruised chest. Wolfrum removed his vest to allow the fox to examine his ribs for possible fractures. Mykola felt around the gray chestfur, eliciting a gasp or moan whenever he hit upon a tender spot. His eyes narrowed in concern.

"Now, this is a little more serious. You do have some rib fractures. I'll have to bandage your chest to keep them from getting worse. Best thing would probably be for you to rest for a few days, but that just won't be possible until we get to Redwall, unfortunately."

He reached into his pack again and pulled out a roll of bandages and another flask containing a murky liquid.

"This," he said, holding up the small flask, "is a special brew containing the powdered bark from a willow tree. It acts as a painkiller. And in your case, it isn't just for comfort; broken ribs make coughing painful, and you tend to suppress it. But coughing helps you prevent pneumonia, which is the last thing you want to catch in this weather. I want you to remember to cough regularly, over the next few days. It'll hurt, I won't lie, but you'll be better off for it, and this potion should make it easier for you."

Wolfrum nodded and took a deep swig of the potion, grimacing at the bitter taste while Mykola unrolled the bandages and seated himself behind his patient to wrap the cloth around the rat's torso. Wolfrum winced and flinched whenever his bruises and fractures came under too much pressure, but otherwise forced himself to hold still.

"I can't wrap it all the way around your chest; that would make breathing too difficult. I'll have to loop it over your shoulders instead. If you're worried how you'll look to your comrades, I think I can borrow an extra shirt that'll fit over your vest. That should keep it hidden."

"Erhm… thanks. 'preciate it," the rodent muttered.

Mykola proceeded to carefully bandage Wolfrum by the warm glow of his borrowed lantern. The ground here beneath the spruce was soft with old dropped needles and only mildly damp; not even the closely-packed coniferous branches were enough to completely shield their natural shelter from this unrelenting deluge. Beyond that protective cone, the storm continued to lash the lands with its fury, the pelting rain and rumbling thunder providing the background symphony to one of nature's signature compositions. It was strangely relaxing, in a way.

"Blood 'n' fur, your 'comrades' sure did a number on you, Wolfrum. Do you know who did this?"

Having remained quite silent until now, the rat's face turned angry. "Yeah, I know, awright. Rather not name names, if it's all th' same."

"What started the fighting?"

"Fighting?" the rodent spat. "T'wasn't fighting, it were abuse, plain 'n' simple! They jumped me last night, not a word o' explanation. Barely managed t' get a few swings in 'fore I was overpowered."

Mykola sighed. Wolfrum's account sounded plausible; it sometimes happened that lone soldiers were targeted for abuse if they grew unpopular with their fellow soldiers for some reason. On the other paw, Wolfrum had claimed to be the victim of unjustified violence before, when in fact he had partially or even wholly instigated the trouble. And even if Mykola could get the names of those who'd assaulted Wolfrum, there was no guarantee that they would be truthful either.

"Beasts like that got no place in this army! Causin' naught but trouble! Ye're the only one who takes me seriously, Mikky; the other officers'll only snigger 'n' laugh if they knew what happened t' me. Or worse yet, they'll pile all th' punishment on me, an' let th' guilty ones off scot free!"

Mykola chuckled inwardly, both at the fact that he'd just been addressed as "Mikky" by a subordinate (no other swordfox or officer would tolerate a such familiarity) and at the rat's hypocrisy, since Wolfrum had received more reprimands than perhaps any other beast in the army. But it was a chuckle tinged with melancholy; if Mykola wanted to help Wolfrum better himself, he needed to proceed carefully now so he didn't push the rat away, while still making Wolfrum acknowledge that he might have some responsibility for what happened.

"You're right: this kind of abuse should not take place in any army, no matter the circumstances. But it might help for me to understand why anybeast felt like they had to assault you. Why did they do this, Wolfie? Be honest with me; telling me the truth will be better in the long run than having it burden your heart. Besides, if the ones who did this to you saw fit to take matters into their own paws rather than report it to the higher-ups, it can't have been something you'll get into too much trouble for."

Wolfrum hesitated, afraid that he would get into trouble despite his caretaker's reassurance (or perhaps he was simply afraid that Mykola would think less of him if he told the truth). But in the end, as the fox continued bandaging his ribs, he told the tale of how he'd gotten separated from the main force during the battle, how the opportunity to take out Girsha had presented itself, how he'd pursued that objective at the expense of the rat who had come to his aid, and how the others now viewed Wolfrum as responsible for Kefrin's death. Of course, he took care to tell it in a way that absolved him of any blame, portraying Kefrin's sacrifice as a tragic turn of battle in the greater strategic attempt to take down the enemy commander.

"…I mean, if he 'adn't distracted me, I coulda taken that featherbag down. An' wouldn't alla yer officer friends agree with that? The death of an enemy leader's worth more'n a lowly soldier?"

Mykola paused. He'd known of Kefrin's death, of course, but not the details surrounding it. He had liked the rat, and mourned his passing; that Wolfrum had been involved, even if not directly responsible, did indeed make him a little angry. But he couldn't let that show now; instead, he had to delicately but forthrightly explain his thoughts on the matter to his charge, and then take steps to help Wolfrum understand and accept his part in it.

"Wolfrum, you're right that most of the officers would feel you made the right decision. Commanders must often be willing to sacrifice individual troops for the greater battle. And since the others didn't exactly rush forth to come to your aid or Kefrin's, they really shouldn't be so quick to judge you.

"But… I don't think you did the right thing." Wolfrum's expression turned to one of surprise and apprehension. "This is partly because I'm not like the other officers; I would probably have chosen to save Kefrin rather than try to kill the raven. But also because of the circumstances. When you found Girsha, the battle was already won, for all intents and purposes. Most of his followers had been killed or fled, so while it was impressive of you to wound and nearly kill him, it didn't accomplish much in the end.

"And finally... while I appreciate your dedication and initiative, I don't think it was soldierly duty that led you to choose Girsha over your comrade. You wanted glory and prestige for yourself, in order to boost your reputation, and that made you hunt for the raven, even though you knew you should've helped Kefrin. Isn't that the case?"

The rat was quite shocked by his caretaker's sudden change in tone and Mykola's penetrating questions.

"But… but I had t' take down Girsha! Weren't that my responsibility as a soldier!"

"You've also got a responsibility to help your comrades when they're in trouble. But that's beside the point. You may actually have done the right thing, at least by Lord Urthblood's standards, if you had no way of knowing whether the battle was over or not, and trying to attack the bird singlehandedly was indeed brave, if a little foolhardy. But you must understand why those beasts who assaulted you last night felt the need to. Even if their actions were wrong - and I certainly think they were - they saw such punishment as the only recourse for what happened to their friend, since their superiors probably wouldn't reprimand you themselves."

"Well, that just shows they had no cause t' do it!" the rodent half-shouted, wincing at the pain in his chest. "The cap'ns 'n' sergeants got no love fer me, so there's no justification fer my own ranks gangin' up on me!"

"That's not what I'm talking about! Look - if you thought somebeast had caused the death of a dear friend, even if that friend had chosen to act in a way that might have meant sacrificing himself, wouldn't you have wanted some small measure of payback? Even if it meant going against the wishes of your superiors?"

Mykola immediately realized that this might not have been the best question to evoke empathy from Wolfrum, since the rat apparently lacked any close friends, or at least any he'd been willing to risk that much for. Fortunately, Wolfrum seemed able to consider such a situation anyway.

"I… I'd prob'ly do like they did, sure. And more besides, p'rhaps. But that don't change th' fact that I ain't responsible fer what happened to Kefrin!"

"That's where I think you're wrong, Wolfrum," Mykola countered, and his patient's expression once again became cold and frightened. "You weren't entirely responsible, of course; the circumstances were difficult, and many good soldiers would have acted as you did. But it still led to Kefrin's death, there's no getting around it. And you didn't answer the question I put to you earlier: was it really your sense of duty to Lord Urthblood that made you go after Girsha at Kefrin's expense, or was it your desire for personal glory?"

The rodent didn't know what to say, stammering and moving his lips without getting a word out. Mykola held up a paw to stall him.

"Before you say anything else, let me be clear that I'm not trying to trick you into admitting something you can be punished for, and I don't seek to condemn you. I simply want to know the truth, as your commander and as a friend, and I want the truth in order to help you.

"Let me try to guess why you acted the way you did. As we both know, you have quite the bad reputation in this army, among both your equals and your superiors. This is partly your own fault and partly the unfair judgment of others." Well, quite a bit more of the former to be honest, Mykola silently noted to himself, but this was hardly the time to take such an antagonistic tack with his companion. "Killing the enemy commander single-pawed was your opportunity to shine, to regain the respect of your fellows and finally earn some praise and admiration. You were so desperate for it that you ignored Kefrin's cries for help, even though you really knew that you should have gone to his aid; the temptation was so great that you refused to do what you knew was right. Am I correct in this, Wolfrum?"

At first Wolfrum looked like he was about to protest, but Mykola's coaxing gaze and the gentle paw on the rat's shoulder made him reconsider. After a long pause he averted his gaze and whispered, "Yeah… yeah, I guess so…"

The fox was grateful that he managed to have made some progress. "I'm glad you can admit it, Wolfrum. It's important to be able to look at our own actions with such honesty. And while I still think that what you did was selfish and foolish, I can understand how somebeast could make such an error in judgment in the heat of battle. You were in a difficult situation, you had just been attacked by two giant birds and you were torn between your duty to Urthblood, your responsibility to a comrade, and your desire to gain our respect. We aren't always as strong or wise as we wish we were, and in those circumstances we often make tragic mistakes that lead to unnecessary suffering both for ourselves and others.

"But it was still a mistake, Wolfrum. Or call it a miscalculation if you prefer. A sad, foolish miscalculation that cost Kefrin his life. Even if you were desperate to restore your reputation, even if you were compelled to follow the army's strategems, and even if you were under a lot of stress and had to make a difficult decision on the spot, you still chose to abandon the rat who had come forward to rescue you. You did a bad thing, and that is something you must face and recognize."

Usually, Wolfrum would have reflexively rejected the notion of being responsible for anything unfortunate that happened because of him, or to him, especially after the assault last night. But something in the fox's words and tone stirred him to turn inward, to actually consider his own role in his misfortune, rather than aggressively assigning the fault to others. In what was a rare occurrence, one that Mykola had seen far too seldom during his conversations with him, the first few flickers of shame and remorse appeared in his eyes.

"Yeah, but… are you sayin' I should just tolerate what they did t' me?"

"Not at all. But this isn't just about last night, Wolfie. It's about your entire career with this army. This wasn't an isolated incident; you've been getting into these sorts of situations ever since you joined us. And we must try to correct it. I've always tried to protect you from reprisals and punishments whenever you get into trouble, but I cannot carry you on my shoulders throughout your entire tour in Lord Urthblood's forces; sooner or later you must learn how to behave and relate to your fellows on your own. I won't deny that some officers here think you should never have been placed under arms, and they're eager to see you removed from the army - one way or the other."

Wolfrum visibly shuddered at the implications of the swordfox's words; to reassure the rat, Mykola once again laid a comforting paw on his shoulder.

"And I don't want to see that happen. I want you to be able to serve with pride and dignity alongside us. But in order for you to do that, you must be able to admit your faults to yourself and strive to correct them. You must swallow your pride and your insistence on always being in the right and be able to see things from the viewpoint of other beasts. I know it's difficult, but it's the only way you'll be able to lead a worthwhile, honourable life; if you continue on your path like this, it will only lead to you being executed when you make such a tremendously horrible mistake that I cannot be there to help you anymore."

Mykola sighed, and then it was his turn to look towards the ground.

"If I may be completely honest, sometimes I wonder if you were really cut out for soldiery, Wolfrum. I'm not saying you're not a good fighter; you're a skilled swords- and spearbeast, and you follow orders well enough in battle. But not all beasts have what it takes to handle the strict discipline and respect for authority that an army like this requires. You're with us simply because you didn't have any other choice; it was joining us, being slain or living at the mercy of the beasts that your robber band had terrorized. Sometimes creatures who shouldn't have to take on such a responsibility end up doing it anyway. I know; I've taken it upon myself to aid and guide them, because nobeast else seem willing to do so."

That was true; of the many officers in Lord Urthblood's forces, both here and back in the Northlands, Mykola was indeed rather exceptional in his approach to the troublesome elements among the beasts under his command. Among the ones he knew, only Liam - who was a mere sergeant and not even a full officer - and a few others shared a similar sentiment.

In every army, in every engine of warfare organized through the regimen of a strict hierarchy and iron-clad discipline, there are always a few "problem soldiers," beasts who don't fit into the established pattern, who have trouble submitting to the rules and authority imposed from above, who fall outside the social order and stick out from the norm. These kinds of creatures often have a hard time leading a worthwhile life in any kind of community. But in an army, where beasts have to engage in struggles for their lives on a daily basis, where the unity and coherence of its members are often kept together by the slimmest of threads, and the threat of chaos and death constantly looms around the corner, life for such outsiders can be utterly unbearable, as they can quickly become despised and shunned by their superiors and equals who see them as a threat to the army's fragile kinship. Wolfrum was one such beast, and so, in a sense, was Mykola.

Unlike many of his "vermin" comrades, the fox had never belonged to any defeated conquering horde, bandit gang or slave caravan whose survivors had been pressed into Urthblood's service. Mykola had been born on the eastern coast of the Northlands, in a village of assorted foxes, ferrets and weasels by the Eastern Sea. His father had been the village's chief defender, a grim and strict beast who demanded the utmost from his family and friends. Mykola's shorter left hindpaw and the comical limp it caused made him an object of ridicule to most of the villagers, and his apparent weakness and meek nature caused his father to shun and ignore him. When a detachment of beasts led by Lord Urthblood had passed through the area during its battles against the wildcat clans, the badger sensed a potential inside him, despite his limp. Mykola was offered a spot among Machus's honoured swordfox brigade, and soon began his training and journeying with the army, leaving his birthplace behind him for good.

Perhaps it was his condition and position as an outcast during his younger seasons that allowed him to feel such a sympathy for and connection with other beasts with similar experiences and problems. Although he remained absolutely dedicated to Urthblood and the Badger Lord's vision of a land where creatures of all species could live as equals and friends, Mykola felt uncomfortable at times with the cold detachment his fellow foxes usually displayed towards the lower ranks, the other vermin in particular, and their contempt for those who had a difficult time adapting to their new lives as professional soldiers. And so he had taken it upon himself to be different.

Mykola appointed himself caretaker of the pariahs and troublesome elements in the Badger Lord's forces. Beasts who were deathly afraid of going into combat, who had trouble socializing and getting along with their fellows, who were distressed at the prospect of killing other creatures, who couldn't seem to handle the discipline and subservience to their superiors expected of them, were all the kind of beasts the fox shared as much time with as he could. He liked the ones who fell outside the accepted boundaries and stood out from the crowd; they were more appealing to him than the strong, proper and orderly soldiers considered the ideal by the other officers. And he also tried to be as engaging and open with his subordinates as possible, to bridge the gulf that existed between them and the swordbeasts.

This made him quite popular with the simple beasts under his command, as he was always there for them when they needed help and support; he had heart, unlike many of his equals. But his methods weren't as appreciated by the other commanders, like Machus or Mina, who considered him much too lenient with some of the hardened vermin.

Mykola liked to use an analogy to explain his approach to these problem soldiers. He saw an army as being like a jigsaw puzzle, with the soldiers as interlocking pieces that fit into each other in an orderly, working fashion, complementing each other's strengths and weaknesses. But every once in a while, a piece comes along with a slightly different cut than the others - edges smoother, more jagged, or otherwise incapable of fitting precisely with the others. Unless that piece is to be discarded and thrown away, some means must be found to fit it into the puzzle despite its differences. One way is to simply hammer and bash it in amongst the others, bludgeoning it into the picture through brute force. That works, quickly and easily, and is the method usually favoured. The problem is that such violence usually leads to irreparable cracks in the puzzle, both on the odd piece and the surrounding ones. A better way is to carefully reform and reshape the piece, to slowly smooth out its edges to better fit with its companions, and if possible to do some work on the surrounding pieces as well to make them more accommodating and easier on their new comrade-in-arms.

The problem with that approach is that it can take a lot of time and effort - something an army often has in short supply.

Wolfrum stood as one of the most ill-fitting pieces in the puzzle of Lord Urthblood's army. His childhood was similar in some ways to Mykola's - born in an impoverished hamlet, his mother having died of fever in his youth and his abusive father having drowned in a river during a drunken binge a few seasons later. He'd lived for a while in the hovels of other rats, which usually ended with him being kicked out due to his short-tempered personality and behaviour. After that he'd travelled with a bandit gang in order to get by through plundering and terrorizing any unfortunate woodlanders he and his mates came across. They made their fateful mistake when they raided a trader caravan being visited by Urthblood and a contingent of Gawtrybe squirrels; most of the bandits were cut down by the badger's mighty sword or pierced by Gawtrybe arrows. The few survivors were disarmed and forced to kneel before the grim red-armoured warrior, who walked up and down before them, gazing deep into their eyes to gauge their character and their potential fate. Most had been judged too corrupt and irredeemable to be allowed to live, and were led away by the Gawtrybe to be executed. Only three, Wolfrum among them, had been extended the Badger Lord's mercy and offered the chance to join his forces or to walk away to live peaceful lives, under penalty of death should they ever decide to trouble decent creatures again. One of the rats chose to leave while Wolfrum and the other, who was killed in a later battle, accepted the offer rather than exist at the mercy of the beasts they had pillaged.

Wolfrum's military career, however, was troubled to say the least, to the point where some wondered why Urthblood had spared him in the first place. The problems started as soon as the rat was taken under arms. He just couldn't seem to submit to the hierarchy. He refused to follow orders, was habitually late for morning muster, cursed and insulted his superiors and stubbornly insisted that he was in the right on every issue. Eventually, the officers managed to cow him into some semblance of submission with a generous application of beatings, lashings, reductions in food rations and other punishments, but that only left his stubborn temperament smouldering beneath the surface. It also had the effect of making him direct his aggressions towards his equals instead; he constantly got into arguments and tussles over the smallest matters, and his latest fight was merely the last in a long series he'd had over the seasons, though more often as the aggressor than the victim. Before long he had made himself plenty of enemies among both the rank and file and the officers - a truly dangerous position in which to be.

And thus had Mykola found him. Where most others despised and distanced themselves from Wolfrum, only interacting with him if they had to, the fox felt a strange connection with and sympathy towards him, as if there was more to the rat than met the eye. And as he had done with many other soldiers, he decided to take it upon himself to change Wolfrum into a proper warrior and goodbeast.

Wolfrum, initially suspicious due to the bad blood between himself and the swordfoxes, soon warmed up to Mykola and came to trust the limping vulpine more than any other beast in the army. The fox was always there for him whenever he got into trouble, clearing up conflicts with his comrades, protecting him from reprisals from both his officers and fellows, and giving him somebeast to talk with and confide in, as much as the disagreeable rodent was able to open himself to anybeast. Whenever time and duty permitted, Mykola sought out the rat for conversation, and Wolfrum was usually, though mostly silently, grateful for the company. The fox always tried to convince his charge to better himself, and while it was both slow and difficult, he eventually did manage to bring about small changes; Wolfrum was able to get along somewhat better with his fellow soldiers, his resentment toward his superiors didn't explode as often and he managed to control his temper more often than usual. He even won over a few other rats from his platoon enough that they started socializing with him on occasion, and when Liam - a rat who was the opposite of Wolfrum in most ways - was promoted to sergeant, it gave him another officer to trust and confide in, lifting some of the burden from Mykola's shoulders.

But for all that, many of the problems continued. He still got into fights, he was still discourteous to beasts outside the army, he still hated most of his superiors, and while he did get along with some creatures, he was still disliked by most. And while Mykola tried to resolve such matters peacefully, Wolfrum still felt the sting of the lash on his back from time to time, punishments that did little to improve his disposition.

When it came down to it, Mykola knew, Woflrum's greatest shortcoming was his inability to take responsibility for his actions. For the rat, every one of his problem was the fault of others. If he was dealt disciplinary actions from the officers, it was because they were angry over somebeast not licking their pawpads all the time, not because he had delayed the army by showing up late when it was time to move out. If he got bruised in fights with his comrades, it was because they were vicious bullies who enjoyed picking on him, not because he started threatening them over some perceived insult they hadn't even intended. If he got into trouble when a hedgehog family complained about him to Cermak, their prejudice against rats was to blame, not the fact that he had tried to steal food from them and then came close to assaulting them when caught. It just didn't occur to him that he had any part to play in his own misfortunes. The world was simply out to get him.

It truly saddened Mykola to see Wolfrum behave like that, and all the misery the rodent brought upon himself because of it. For despite these obvious faults, the fox couldn't help but like the trouble-prone rat. Even though Wolfrum had found some companionship in Mykola, Liam and the few rats in the platoon who tolerated his presence, he was still at heart a very lonely, isolated creature. The fox, and possibly Liam, were the closest he had to actual friends, and despite what most others would've thought, the fault wasn't entirely on his side; for how many beasts had actually tried to approach and be sociable with him since he'd first joined the army?

On those rare occasions when he was truly happy and content with his life, Wolfrum could reveal completely different sides to his personality. He could be open, approachable and even friendly during these moments. The talks with him Mykola liked best was when the rat felt truly safe and calm in his presence and was able to freely share experiences and memories. He could even listen attentively and with interest when the fox told him about his own life, childhood and upbringing, perhaps seeing parallels between the two of them. Some of his favourite pastimes, which he revealed only to the fox, was to admire the flowers and plants he came across during his travels and to lie on his back during the night and watch the stars; he was surprisingly knowledgeable about flora and constellations. And while he wasn't a very dependable beast outside of battle, he was much more reliable during it; he was good fighter, skilled with both sword and spear, followed battlefield orders quite well, and he'd managed to accomplish feats during combat that might've made him admired by his superiors if it wasn't for his overall attitude.

These moments, these glimpses, drove Mykola harder to help him. He had seen hints of the kind of creature Wolfrum could be, if only the rat could manage to overcome himself. And Mykola didn't want that potential to end up in an unmarked, dishonoured grave.

These thoughts and reminiscences raced through his mind as he awaited his patient's response, nervous and unsure whether he'd managed to reach the recalcitrant rat. But finally, after several long moments of tense silence, Wolfrum cast down his eyes and said, almost inaudibly, "Ye're… you may be right. I… did have a part in what 'appened to Kefrin. I'll hafta face that and strive not t' let it happen again…"

Mykola breathed an inward sigh of relief, and favoured the rat with a warm smile. To actually be able to make the rodent admit his mistake and take responsibility for it was a true accomplishment. He only hoped that Wolfrum would carry the lesson with him; he had made similar progress in the past, and while it helped for a while, the rat soon returned to his old habits. But maybe this time would be different…

"Thank you, Wolfrum, for being able to see it that way. It truly makes me happy to know that you can face what you did. If you keep this lesson and try to act on it, I know things will get better. I will talk to Captain Cermak and make sure there are no more reprisals against you over Kefrin."

The rat nodded imperceptibly, his expression leaving his thoughts unreadable. Outside the hanging branches, the raging storm continued its fierce dance through the night.

The fox put the finishing touches on the bandages he'd tied across Wolfrum's chest.

"There, that should keep you going for awhile. I do wish we could prevent the bandages from getting soaked in this weather, but I really don't know how to do that. You'll just have to try and bear it and hope the storm passes soon."

He once again reached into his bag to pull out blankets and bedrolls.

"You can sleep here with me, Wolfie. That way you'll be mostly dry and relatively warm for this night at least. Tomorrow we'll have to quicken our pace to get to Redwall before we're swept away by the wind and rain, so take advantage of the extra sleep we'll be afforded now. Tomorrow, I'll make sure to borrow that shirt first thing."

The rat was tying his vest back over his bandaged torso when he remembered something. "Eh, excuse me but… there's one more thing…"

The fox gave Wolfrum a concerned look. "Oh?"

"Well, um, ever since last night, I've had this… Y' see, they kicked me 'tween th' legs a few times, an' I've had these… stabs o' pain since then. I was just wonderin' if you'd think it's anything… serious?"

Mykola furrowed his brow. "Now, that is a matter of some concern. If you've been feeling pain since then, that could mean there's some damage to… that part of your anatomy. However, I don't think the risk is too great. If their beating had really caused any significant damage, you probably wouldn't have been able to walk this far. It's most likely just some painful bruising in that area that will pass by itself soon."

The rodent looked relieved at this. "Well, that's good t' know…"

"But," the fox turned sombre, "it's not something we should leave to chance. Complications can arise later unless we rule out that it's nothing serious. I'd better do a check-up." He moved the lantern closer to him to get the right amount of light, while dampening the flame somewhat to get a little more privacy. "Could you please lie down and loosen your breeches?"

Wolfrum's yellow eyes went as wide as saucers.

00000000000

The storm kept raging as fiercely as ever the following morning, bombarding the lands with rain and strikes of lightning. It was difficult to believe that there had ever been a sun and clear blue sky the previous day, the world having sunk into a dark grey, oppressive morass that left everybeast chilled to the bone.

Despite the weather, the army had to keep moving to keep to their schedule. The growling, groaning mass of creatures, who had gotten little sleep during the night due to their sodden fur and the unceasing rumbles of thunder, were roused and assembled into their customary places along the road, which now resembled a miles-long mudpie rather than the line of hardpacked earth it had been the day before. Some of the foxes showed the foresight of experienced healers, having mixed up a brew to act as medicine for anybeast who'd caught a cold during the wet night, for which several sneezing, puffy-eyed beasts were grateful. As quickly as these less-than-ideal circumstances allowed, the captains got their troops in line to continue their journey to the warmth and comfort of Redwall.

As Mykola walked among the gathering creatures, he heard his name being called by a familiar voice. Turning, he saw Wolfrum making his way towards him, carrying his vest over the shirt that the fox had given to Liam to pass on to him earlier that morning, his bandages hidden from view. He wore an expression that was a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty, along with a hint of gratitude. Mykola's "examination" the night before had revealed that his aching parts were still in good order; the rat would be still be able to have children. Not that there was much chance of that; while the rat occasionally boasted about his sexual prowess when such subjects came up around the campfires, the fox knew from one of their more revealing conversations that Wolfrum was still a virgin. Most females didn't want anything to do with him, and on the few occasions that some ratmaid actually had approached him, Wolfrum was so terrified and nervous that he usually left the scene quickly. And he would probably be a terrible father in any case.

Taking a few moments from his duties to hear him out, the fox waited for his friend to gather himself. When Wolfrum finally did speak, he made his voice loud enough to be heard over the rain, but also leaned in close to Mykola so as not to be heard by anybeast else.

"Ehm… thanks fer yer help last night, an' fer sortin' out those problems I been havin'. I really 'preciate it. I'll try t' keep in mind what you told me, an' I hope things'll go better in th' future."

The swordfox was smiling at the rat's show of humility and gratitude, just when he grew sour, leaned further forward and whispered with a growl, "But if'n you ever, ever, mention t' anybeast that last check-up you did, I'll…"

He stopped as the fox's expression suddenly grew stern. Even Mykola wouldn't tolerate a threat from a subordinate, not even in jest. Wolfrum's tone became pleading instead. "Jus'… please, please don't tell anybeast 'bout this. I… I just couldn't bear it…"

The fox sighed and his expression softened again. "Wolfrum, you should know me better than that. Of course I'll never mention this to anybeast else. This stays between me and you. All right?"

After a moment's pause, the rodent nodded. "Awright."

Mykola gave him a pat on his shoulder. "Go and join your comrades now. We'll see each other later."

The two beasts took their leave of each other, assuming their customary places along the troop column, over a hundred beasts long. Once all the soldiers were properly gathered at last, Machus once again gave the call to march, and the army began to trod along the road, their paws sinking into the soggy, muddy ground as the rain continued to pour down upon their heads. While they didn't know what lay in store for them, or how the future of the lands would be shaped by their present course, the beasts who had sworn their loyalty to the Crimson Badger knew one thing: their arrival at Redwall couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

_Hello again!_

_First of all, I'm so sorry about the delay between chapter two and three. This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I expected, and I had to give Highwing the proper time to work his editing magic on it. I hope you'll find this chapter worth the wait, and I promise that I'll do everything I can to update quicker in the future. _

_More than everything else, I wan't to give my profoundest thanks to the masterful Highwing, who's worked himself to exhaustion to edit and improve this chapter, enduring my constant pestering and demands, and made this story much better than I could ever have hoped to achieve on my own. Ol' Featherbag, there aren't any words to properly express my gratitude, so I'll just say: I salute you!_

_Once again, this story is based on Highwing's masterpiece "A Crimson Badger" and contains heavy spoilers. Read at your own risk. _

The rain kept up all day, and showed no signs of abating as the second night of the march fell upon them.

It was an exhausted, cheerless and thoroughly soaked mass of creatures that hunkered down for another cold, soggy night in the forests of Mossflower Country. This time Mykola was unable to find any spruce he could shelter beneath in relative dryness, and contented himself with sleeping under a less protective and very drippy birch. Off in Cermak's rat platoon, Wolfrum made do with an equally inadequate oak. Mykola hadn't been able to talk with Wolfrum that day, having been too preoccupied with helping to keep the troop column together during the storm. The combination of the gloomy weather, the terrible marching conditions and scant sleep kept everybeast's spirits low, despite the officers' best efforts to keep up morale. He could only hope that the mood didn't affect the rat's disposition too much.

Dawn of the third day found the deluge continuing as strongly as ever. Many of the officers grew worried over how much more of this their troops could take; a day or two more of this might degrade discipline to a crisis point. But a few hours into their march, just as the mood was at its darkest and every forward step seemed to require a supreme effort of will, the rain slackened and then stopped completely. Shortly afterwards, a few blessed patches of blue sky appeared among the clouds, and the first tentative rays of sunlight probed through the forest canopy and along the open road with an invigorating brilliance once again. A thunderous cheer from the nearly six-hundred strong detachment arose from the ranks and echoed across the forest; while such an unmilitary display would normally have been frowned upon by the captains, Machus and the other squad leaders let it pass without reprimand this time, breathing a collective sigh of relief at not having to resort to any drastic measures to keep their troops in line and moving.

The trees all around them still dripped liberally from this days-long drenching and the road still muddied the soldiers' footpaws, but the sun's return immediately lifted spirits all around and enabled everybeast to march with newfound optimism. By early afternoon the ground had dried enough to allow them their first real break in two days. Gratch laid out his pots and cauldrons to prepare something a little more tasty than the hardtack rations they'd had to subsist on for the past few days, and several creatures (including Wolfrum, Mykola was pleased to learn) aided the rat cook by heading out to forage from the rich environs of Mossflower Woods. An hour and a half later, their bellies satisfyingly filled, the marchers roused themselves again to continue their journey. Machus judged they could press on for a few hours more before settling down for a well-deserved early night, and still reach Redwall the day after tomorrow, even if they kept to a leisurely pace. The troops had earned at least that much.

It turned out, however, that the rest of their journey would be anything but easy, though it would be over more quickly.

As the sun dropped toward the western mountains and the captains sought out suitable ground to make camp, Urthblood's kite captain Halpryn swooped down out of the evening sky to settle before the fox regiment. Fixing Machus with a penetrating glare,. she declared, "Urthblood waits for you at Redwall."

"Well, where else would he be waiting for us?", the swordfox thought with a caustic edge, but kept the sarcastic musing to himself. "Nice to see you too, Halpryn," he said instead. "If you're going back to Redwall, you can tell him we should be there the morning after tomorrow. I think my beasts should be allowed a little rest after that storm."

"Not day after tomorrow. Tomorrow."

"I'm ... sorry?" Halpryn had spoken in the curt tone of an official command, but the words failed to fully register right away with the weary fox.

"Urthblood says army to be at Redwall tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" said Machus, not understanding why they might be required at such short notice. "Why? Is there trouble?"

"No trouble, no danger. But Urthblood says important for army to be at Redwall tomorrow."

"Well… I suppose we can manage that. We'll break camp before sunrise to get an early start, and keep our pace quick for the day. That should get us there by tomorrow evening."

"Not evening. Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning? You can't be serious!"

"Urthblood serious, Halpryn serious, now you be serious too."

"My troops are in no condition for such a forced march. They've already pushed themselves two days through that storm, with very little sleep. They're tired and hungry and need a proper night's rest before they're ready for marching again. I'd have to run them ragged just to get them there by noon tomorrow!"

"Then run them ragged, and get there by noon. But no later. Urthblood very clear. Army at Redwall by early part of day. Not afternoon, not evening, not night." She threw a glance at the dirty, sweaty mass of creatures standing behind the swordfox. Although bird expressions were quite difficult to read, Machus could tell that she was far from pleased with what she saw. "Also, Urthblood says make sure troops are presentable. Wants good impression on Redwallers. Stream a short walk south of here. Go get washed."

And before Machus could voice further protests, Halpryn turned and flapped her mighty wings to lift her back into the sky. As a final ignominious send-off, the wind of her takeoff splattered his face and uniform with specks of mud from the road, providing further incentive to get everybeast cleaned up.

"Thank you, Halpryn…" the swordfox captain muttered in a deadpan before turning back to his regiment.

This placed Machus in a very difficult position: he had to go back on his promise to allow his troops their well-deserved full night's rest after the previous difficult days, and to instead drive them on through the darkness after they'd already spent an entire day on their paws. The rank and file would not be pleased, to say the least. But a direct order from the crimson badger could not be disobeyed; the Northlands would never have been tamed if the captains and troops had been free to choose which commands they would follow and which they would disregard. The soldiers here would just have to endure one more unpleasant night, this time a forced march under cover of dark instead of saturated pelts and the relentless noise of thunder. They'd faced worse in the Northlands, when you got right down to it. Then again, in the Northlands Machus had known better than to promise comfort he was unable to deliver, and he should have known better here too. The swordfox silently cursed himself for allowing the welcoming environs of Mossflower and the prospect of Redwall's comforts to lead him to grow so careless.

He addressed his fellow foxes, wiping mud flecks from his brow. "Well, you heard what she said. Gather the troops and get them to that stream. We'll get ourselves washed as quickly as we can and then… well, prepare ourselves for a long night…"

Mykola couldn't remember a time, not even in the harsh Northlands, when the troops had demonstrated more reluctance to do as commanded. It wasn't so much outright disobedience or active resistance; these beasts were simply exhausted, and the news that they would be denied their promised rest and sleep had knocked their morale down as low as their reserves of strength. The officers, no less tired than their soldiers, cajoled and wheedled and issued threats to get their sluggish subordinates moving, even among the woodlander regiments - an embarrassing display for an army that prided itself on its loyalty and devotion. Finally assembled into somewhat coherent ranks once more, a half hour's march brought them to the stream Halpryn had mentioned.

The "stream" turned out to be nothing less than the River Moss itself, although none of the Northlanders realized that was what it was. Here, the Moss became a shallow ford where travelers could wade across, although the recent heavy rains had the broadstream flowing deeper and more swiftly than usual. Saybrook took the lead, deploying his otters into the twilight waters to stand watch against any pike or other dangerous fish which might lurk in these swollen currents, and be ready to retrieve any of their fellow soldierbeasts who were swept off their footpaws while washing or making their eventual crossing.

Machus ordered that each regiment would take its turn in the stream in marching order... which put his foxes first. With Saybrook's otters guarding the upstream and downstream approaches (and getting their own bathing in at the same time), the swordfoxes waded through to the other side, washing off the worst of the mud and grime. Safely gaining the south banks, each fox removed its uniform to properly soak the garment and wring it out to a clean and presentable state once more while Mattoon's weasels took their turn in the stream. This wouldn't be any kind of thorough washing, there was no time for it, and everybeast would undoubtedly still carry some sweat on their fur and a few deep mudstains on their clothes. But it would at least make them somewhat less haggard in their aspect, looking like an army of soldiers rather than beggars. If they weren't in absolutely immaculate dress-parade order, well, Lord Urthblood had nobeast to blame but himself for placing such an unreasonable travel mandate upon them - not that Machus would ever voice such thoughts aloud to his badger master.

Having rinsed himself as best he could, Mykola pulled his wet uniform jacket back on over his equally wet fur, thankful that the clammy coolness of the monster storm had yielded to the more typical dry warmth of high summer. Smoothing and pulling at his jacket to iron out the wrinkles as best he could, he made his way into a copse of trees where Machus and Mina stood letting their own pelts and clothes dry for a bit. The squirrel Lady had elected to stand a little away from the bathing weasels, and the other soldiers to follow them. As with the foxes, some were dirty enough to require the removal of tunics, breeches or cloak, and most were uncomfortable with the prospect of appearing unclad in front of a female… or at least, anybeast who wasn't in that state herself. Mina had been lucky enough that her clothes were sufficiently clean to not need anything but a few quick scrubs at the right places, so she did not have to remove anything in front of the others. Now she stood swishing her damp tail back and forth in a rather feeble attempt to dry it out, next to the still-soaked fox captain who'd required a more thorough washing of his fur and jacket.

Mykola almost wanted to laugh at the rather undignified state he and his superiors were in, but decided against it. Giving as proper a salute as he could, he addressed them. "Looks like we're in for quite a haul tonight, sir."

"Yes, Mykola, we are," Machus agreed with a sigh.

"Any idea why that featherbag demanded our arrival tomorrow?"

"It's hardly proper to refer to one of Urthblood's bird captains like that," Machus reminded him, but the senior fox's reprimand came across as halfhearted at best. "No, just that we have to be there sometime during the first half of the day tomorrow. Halpryn said there was no trouble at the Abbey, and I hope that kite's right, because we'll hardly be in fighting shape after marching all night. I honestly can't imagine what it's all about. Let's just hope it's important enough to warrant all this extra hassle and strain on our troops."

Mina chimed in: "It pains me to see how the troops reacted. All that complaining and grousing and obstinacy. Why, I passed by the hedgehog division earlier, and I swear that Tillamook was practically pushing and slapping his hogs to get them going! I mean, I would expect that sort of behaviour from the rats or weasels or stoats, but not from proper goodbeasts!" Remembering the company she was in, she promptly gave a contrite look. "That was a stupid, inconsiderate thing to say. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Machus replied. "Most of the vermin are a bit more 'unrefined' than their woodlander fellows, there's no question about it. Just remember that we're trying to change our ways, we really are."

"Vermin or woodlander, I have to say that their reaction is understandable," said Mykola. "We promised them a breather after their recent tribulations and now we have to go back on it. That can't be good for the disposition of anybeast."

Neither Mina nor Mykola noticed the passing scowl Machus gave at being reminded of his own bad judgment on this score. Mina shook her head and gave Mykola a disapproving look, as she had done during their conversation two days ago.

"There you go again. When the officers have to practically resort to threats of violence to get their troops going, especially among the woodlanders, it's a disgrace, regardless of how tired they are. This army prides itself on the loyalty and dedication of its members. Their behavior this day was an embarrassment. You're much too soft on them."

Mykola shrugged off her criticism. It was nothing new from her, and he saw no reason to argue about it right now. If Machus had spoken along these same lines, Mykola would have had to respond, but Mina was not technically his superior, and no fox had to answer directly to her. The Gawtrybe had allied themselves with Urthblood but none of those squirrel archers had officially joined his army, which placed them outside the chain of command. Neither he nor the squirrel Lady were likely to change their minds any time soon.

Machus did have something to say, however. "Speaking of unruly troops, you've not told us about your conversation with Wolfrum yet. Did he respond to your… kindness, as you thought he would?"

The short-legged fox recognized skepticism and tones of implied challenge in his captain's voice when he heard it. This time, however, he felt he'd made legitimate progress with his charge, and was actually eager to relate his lengthy conversation with Wolfrum. He told Machus and Mina about his treatment of the rat's injuries, taking pains to point out that they'd resulted from an unprovoked attack by his comrades, while portraying the reason for the assault in such a way as to cast Wolfrum's fateful battlefield choice in the best possible light; Mykola had promised Wolfrum that he would not get into any more trouble over the matter, after all.

To his surprise, both Machus and Mina seemed more astonished that Wolfrum had almost killed Girsha than outraged over his abandonment of Kefrin.

"Who would've guessed that rat was capable of such heroics?" the swordfox captain said. "Are you sure he's not just lying to impress us?"

Mykola strove to keep disdain from tinging his voice. "Yes. I've spoken with Liam and a few of Cermak's other rats, and they all confirm that's what happened."

This seemed to satisfy the fox captain's curiosity. Mykola wanted to protest, to object to the seemingly callous dismissal of Kefrin's death displayed by both Machus and Mina; that was, after all, what he'd worked to impress upon Wolfrum as the rat's principle misdeed, and what he himself considered to be Wolfrum's biggest failing. But he put it aside; he didn't want to cause any problems for his charge, and if Machus decided to ignore it, it was probably for the best.

Mykola went on to describe his effort to get the rat to confront his mistake, to admit to his part in his comrade's demise, and how Mykola had in the end forced Wolfrum to a place of remorse and acceptance. The junior fox was careful not to exaggerate his success, for he wanted to make it clear that Wolfrum still needed strong guidance and help in order for his soul-searching to affect him on a more permanent basis. But he hoped Machus and Mina would at least realize what progress could be made when Mykola applied his own methods rather than the strict discipline usually favored by most officers - that his understanding, personal approach had succeeded where theirs didn't.

As he'd promised his patient two nights earlier, he made no mention of the rather sensitive examination he'd given Wolfrum at the end. While neither Machus nor Mina were likely to repeat such information or use it against the rat, it was best to just keep it between the two of them. And Mykola had given his word, after all.

"… And I think that getting Wolfrum to show contrition and remorse for his actions, when doing that is so difficult for him, is a sign of real progress," Mykola concluded. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Machus pondered this assessment. "Well… Yes, I suppose so. That is, if he's truly being sincere and not just putting on an act to get your sympathy."

Try as he might, Mykola couldn't entirely keep a trace of offense from his voice. "Sir, I know Wolfrum!" He turned to both Machus and the Gawtrybe Lady. "You're both right: He's irresponsible, selfish, violent, and everything else bad you say about him. But he's no liar! He couldn't fool anybeast as you suggest; he's not nearly a good enough actor for that. When I see shame and remorse in his eyes, I know it's sincere!"

He realized he had spoken inappropriately to his superior and lowered his gaze in chagrin. Fortunately, Machus decided not to call him on it. "Well, you do know him better than either of us, so I guess we'll just have to take your word for it. And Wolfrum's too, through you."

His eyes then bore into Mykola. "Now, are you certain this latest episode is over and done with? Will he behave once we get to Redwall?"

Mykola locked gazes with his superior. "Yes. Wolfrum will not step out of line. I will keep him under my constant watch, and make sure he's on his best behaviour. And before you bring on the sarcasm, Wolfrum actually _has _a best behaviour, and it is quite a step above his usual attitude."

"We can certainly hope so." Machus allowed himself a momentary smile, then turned serious again. "Mykola, if your talks with him are what it takes to make him behave like a goodbeast at the Abbey, you will have my profoundest thanks, and I will take back every negative thing I've ever said about your approach to him and the other troublesome soldiers. But you must also remember that I will hold you responsible for his behaviour, good or bad, and if he steps out of line in front of the Redwallers, I will consider you at least partly to blame. Are we clear on that?"

The implications of the swordfox captain's words gave Mykola pause. How could he guarantee Wolfrum wouldn't cause any trouble at the Abbey; how could you ever be absolutely certain about such things? Time and circumstance could bring unforeseen and unfortunate events upon anybeast. But he had sworn himself to this cause, and taken it upon himself to guide and aid the rat into getting along with his fellows and not embarrassing the army in front of the Redwallers. Wolfrum and Machus were both counting on him, and he could hardly back out now, not after all he'd said and done. Whatever risks he faced by sticking to this course, he would just have to meet this challenge head on.

"Perfectly, sir."

Machus nodded in return. "Good. That's all I'm asking."

Mykola was grateful for his captain's trust, but felt he needed to say one thing more. "Machus, understand that I'm not just doing this to keep Wolfrum out of trouble at Redwall. That's our most immediate concern, of course, but it's not what I ultimately hope to accomplish. I want to help him to become a proper goodbeast, to make sure that the good behaviour he'll display at Redwall stays on permanently."

Machus regarded his subordinate for a few moments, his expression unreadable. "Yes, I knew that," he said softly. "I didn't mention it because I thought that getting him into proper shape for Redwall was what you had a realistic chance at."

The short-legged fox's heart sank at those words. Mina, who had quietly looked on this whole time, said, "Mykola, don't fret yourself too much over it. We hardly expect you to work miracles, and it would be unwise of you to expect that either. Your main focus right now must be getting Wolfrum into proper shape for Redwall. If that ruffian is to truly change his ways in the long term, he'll have to do so on his own… though I wouldn't set your hopes too high if I were you."

Mykola knew that the squirrel's words were meant to reassure and comfort him, but somehow they just made things worse. Whenever he talked about these matters with the two of them, they often misunderstood why he was so concerned about creatures like Wolfrum. They just took it for granted that his main concern was the army itself, and how that army appeared to creatures they were trying to win over to their cause, as well as his own fate should his approach to rehabilitation fail. In other words, they projected their own priorities onto him as well. And while of course Mykola was worried about all this, his priority was the individual, not the whole - the fate and soul of those "troublesome elements," the way they harmed themselves and others, how they were ostracized and despised by their fellows, how they had no one to care for them and empathize with their plight, and how little chance they had of truly reforming if the usual army discipline was all they could expect. Even if the army truly was better of without them ... even if they weren't around to cause trouble for decent creatures ... even if he himself didn't suffer any repercussions for it, the idea of seeing those troubled beasts thrown into unmarked, unmourned graves after being subjected to the executioner's blade still hurt Mykola to his spirit, and stirred within him the need to advocate on their behalf.

In all his seasons serving under the standard of the crimson badger, this aspect of army life bothered him the most: the way beasts were reduced to places in a squad or platoon, to what they could contribute to the army as a whole, their worth determined solely by their fighting capabilities and how well they melded with their comrades rather than their status as thinking, living creatures, where those who couldn't fit in where judged as nuisances to be either beaten into submission or cast out. Perhaps it was unavoidable in any military force, but Mykola was determined to counteract it as best as he could.

At the moment, however, he could only respond weakly, "I have managed to get him to behave before, and I'm positive I've done so now - "

"You can't be there to coddle him all the time," the squirrel interrupted. "So far, you've had the fortune - or misfortune, as the case may be - to travel with the same detachment as Wolfrum during your campaigns, but that might change soon. Fates only know how he'll behave if he doesn't have you around to keep him on the straight and narrow." Her face turned grim. "And let's face it, anybeast who has to be constantly guided on how to act like a decent, proper member of society is most likely fundamentally flawed as a creature."

Mykola didn't know how to respond to that. He wondered whether he should protest the Gawtrybe Lady's harsh words or just let the subject drop. Fortunately, Machus made the decision for him.

"Please, both of you, there's no point arguing about this any further. Mykola, I do hope you succeed in your goal, for all our sakes. I too wish that Wolfrum could become a true goodbeast. We just have different views on how to achieve that difficult task. For now, focus on keeping that rascal in check while we enjoy the hospitality of Redwall, and that will be good enough for me."

Those words did comfort Mykola. Favoring his captain with a grateful smile, he joined in watching the soldiers bathing at the river. By this time, about half the troops had had their turn cleaning themselves up in the cool rushing waters, and right now Abellon's brigade was taking its turn. Saybrook's otters had come forward to steady each mouse against the strong currents and help the smaller creatures cross safely.

"Looks like our otters will have to help all the mice and shrews gets across, and maybe the hedgehogs too," Machus observed. "Maybe even the rats."

"Please, fates preserve us, not the rats," said Mina. "We've got two entire platoons of them, and if those rodents can't cross under their own power, we'll not make it to Redwall until next season!"

"To be frank, I think we'll be lucky to make it by noon tomorrow," Machus responded. "Lord Urthblood will just have to understand that we'll be at the Abbey as soon as we can, and that's that. If he doesn't like it, he can always send Halpryn to squawk at me some more."

"Hopefully, this cold water might give them enough of a jolt to stir their muscles and keep them awake during the nightly march," Mykola pointed out. "This delay now could improve our time overall." As he spoke, he massaged the thigh of his left leg. Sometimes, during cold weather or after having bathed in chill waters, he developed an irritating ache in his shorter leg, and he hoped to any fates who would listen that it wouldn't come now; that would make the march even more unbearable. Fortunately, he couldn't feel it creeping up on him this time.

"That it might, Mykola," Machus said. "That it might. But either way, this delay is unavoidable. Lord Urthblood wanted clean beasts, so clean beasts is what he'll get!"

It took over an hour, but finally everybeast was gathered in proper formation on the southern bank of the river, though their wet fur and garments made them look a little less intimidating than usual. By now, the sun had disappeared completely beneath the horizon and the long silver summer twilight was fading to full dark, though mercifully without howling winds or lashing rain this time. Machus and the captains once more set their troop column into motion down the road, which had fortunately started to dry from its muddy state. The soldiers did their best to ignore their aching muscles and heavy eyelids as they forced their tired footpaws to carry them along the final leg of their journey to Redwall.

0000000000000000000

If that night was not the hardest the Northlanders had had to endure in all their seasons under Urthblood, it certainly ranked near the top. At least the moon and stars shone down on them, providing some faint light by which to see the path ahead of them and eliminating the need to light torches or lanterns. At one point Captain Abellon strove to improve morale by striking up one of their traditional marching songs, but the halfhearted attempt by the few mice who joined in sputtered into an embarrassed silence after a few verses when it became clear nobeast else had the strength or interest to bellow out a tune.

Wolfrum, never adept at singing, gave silent thanks that the mouse captain's efforts met with frustration. His exhaustion would have made even faking it too much of a strain. At least his health showed steady improvement since Mykola's treatment two days earlier. The swelling around his eye was now only a light bruising, and the bandages around his chest had worked wonders in helping his ribs heal, aided by the painkilling effects of the willow potion; when they got to Redwall, he'd ask the fox if it was safe to remove them and then find some private spot to do so. And while he still walked a little funny due to the tenderness in his private region (and a little bit due to the intimate "check-up" he'd been given), the stabs of pain had pretty much died down by now.

But equally important was the effect his talk with the short-legged fox had had on him. It did indeed feel good to have opened his heart and unburdened himself to a sympathetic fellow creature; aside from the promised protection against reprisals, having somebeast like Mykola to talk to freely and without reservations was the main reason he valued the fox's company so much. But it had also left him with a turmoil of conflicting emotions and thoughts; he was still trying to sort out the implications of their conversation, and what Mykola had managed to coax out of him.

Wolfrum had never been a beast to accept responsibility for his actions, or the results of those actions. Even after his heartfelt conversation with Mykola, he remained unconvinced that he bore the brunt of the blame for what had happened to Kefrin. But something about the fox's words, how he'd argued his point of view and pleaded with Wolfrum, had stirred something within the rat. Looking back at that fateful day when he tangled with Girsha, he really did feel sorry for Kefrin and felt guilty about not coming to his aid when the errand rat had done that for him. And while Wolfrum still considered the assault on him entirely unjustified, he could see why those creatures would've wanted to do what they did. The whole concept of actually accepting some responsibility for his misfortune was strange and confusing to him, and he honestly didn't know what to do with it.

And then there was his promise to the fox of trying to improve himself. Some of the few times Wolfrum truly did feel guilt was when he let down his protector - and the closest thing he had to a friend - when it came to trying to control his temper, respecting other beasts and attempting to be more helpful and sociable. Their recent talk was hardly the first time he'd made such promises, but it always seemed circumstances would soon force him to revert to his regular, nasty self again.

While Wolfrum usually remained willfully ignorant of his many faults - his fierce temper, his rudeness, his selfishness and irresponsibility - his forthright discussions with Mykola occasionally provided him the clarity to see those faults for what they were. And during those rare moments, Wolfrum hated himself more than any of his tormentors, swordfoxes or officers.

No, it wasn't the first time he'd sworn to improve himself, and his track record in doing so wasn't very good. But for what it was worth, Wolfrum vowed to himself that this time - this time - he would try to make Mykola proud of him.

As midnight drew near, some of the troops grew so tired that they practically had to be dragged along by their comrades in order to keep pace with the column. And as midnight passed, some of the smaller beasts like the mice, moles and shrews were actually hoisted up onto the backs of otters, weasels and some of the larger rats, allowing them to catch a few minutes of sleep. Nobeast offered such amenities to the hedgehogs, though.

To everybeast's surprise, Wolfrum volunteered to carry one of the shrews from Captain Bremo's platoon marching directly ahead of Cermak's rats, and before long Wolfrum had the grateful shrew draped over his shoulder, the smaller beast's loud snores preventing him from falling asleep on his feet as well.

"Fates, Wolfrum, I'da never thought you'd be able t' do that! Ye're strong as an otter!"

Walking beside him was Liam, who also bore a sleeping shrew on his back. As always, the rat sergeant strove to maintain a cheerful, optimistic façade for the benefit of his comrades.

"Y' know," Liam went on, "I'm so tired I c'd just about fall over any moment. That ye're able t' march like this after such a long, tiresome day, an' carryin' another beast no less, I think that's very, very impressive. You should be proud o' yerself, Wolfie."

Wolfrum knew he wasn't doing anything different from any number of his fellow rats who'd also accepted such burdens, and that Liam was just saying this to encourage him, like he would to anybeast else. But hearing such praise and friendliness still gladdened him, for he didn't receive it often.

"Thanks, mate…"

Liam gazed up to take in the twinkling night sky, apparently wanting to continue this conversation, for his comrade's benefit or for his own.

"Leastways th' sky's free o' clouds. Don't think we'da been able t' travel like this on a night as gloomy as th' last two. Beautiful, too, once y' get down to it; th' full moon's silvery light and them stars twinklin' like liddle jewels on a blanket o' black satin…"

Wolfrum wasn't really in a conversational mood, but if the sergeant wanted to wax poetical about the night sky, he might as well join in with a little observation of his own. Anything to help take his mind off how exhausted he was.

"Yeah, 'specially th' Raven."

"What raven?" Liam asked, perhaps worried that one of the survivors from Girsha's band had decided to retaliate.

"Up there, jus' to th' right o' the moon," Wolfrum responded, briefly taking his right paw away from the shrew's leg to point at the glittering dome overhead. "See them five bright stars in a line, an' th' four others 'cross it? That's called th' Raven."

Liam followed his comrade's claw, smiling as he made out the constellation Wolfrum had described. "Ah yes, I've noterced those stars afore, but I never knew they 'ad a name. 'The Raven', huh? Sure is a prettier bird than th' ones we hadta fight 'gainst recently." He turned towards his companion, appearing genuinely impressed with the rat's knowledge. "I had no idea y' knew so much 'bout the night sky, you ol' rascal!"

"Well, I've picked up a li'l here 'n' there from various beasts I've met over th' seasons. It interests me a little, it does…"

The sergeant gave a good-humoured chuckle. "Wish I could know as much 'bout it as you. Don't think we had any star names like that where I'm from, either in my old horde ner the village o' Conwyn where my kinfolk settled once I joined up with Urthblood. Come t' think on it, I don't recall you ever tellin' me th' name o' the place you grew up in?"

"I… I don't think it had a name…"

The other rat looked a little surprised. "It didn't have a name?"

"No, I don't 'member us ever callin' it anything 'cept 'th' village.' We were the only settlement fer some distance 'round, so we were never really confused 'bout what place we were talkin' 'bout."

Liam mulled this over for awhile. "Well, Conwyn lay quite close to a couple other settlements, so we pretty much had t' call it something to distinguish it from the others."

"Makes sense, I guess…"

"I think ev'ry village should have its own name. Just doesn't feel right that anybeast should grow up not knowin' what his birthplace is called. Once Urthblood has finished taming th' lands, I'm sure every town an' homestead will have a name of its own. Mebbe we could call yours Ravenshold?"

Wolfrum actually gave a little smile at that. "I think that's much too gran' fer th' ramshackle hamlet I grew up in, but thanks fer th' thought."

Liam gave a friendly laugh, then his moonlit expression turned more serious. "Sorry fer jabberin' on about nothing, Wolfie; I'm just tryin' t' keep our spirits up best I can. I know ye're just puttin' up with me 'cos you wanna show ye're tryin' yer best t' show me 'n' Mykola that ye're takin' our advice 'bout bein' more friendly an' sociable seriously."

Wolfrum was a little uncertain how to respond, since he wasn't sure if that was the reason, but Liam interrupted him before he could fully organize his thoughts.

"An' you should know I'm very glad fer that. Mikky will be too. I think it's a very good sign, an' if you do yer best to continue with yer efforts, I jus' know things'll get better."

Liam's warm, friendly smile and words stirred something within Wolfrum's heart. And unlike his talk with Mykola, those emotions welling up were unambiguously positive.

In most ways the sergeant rat was the very opposite of himself: kind, friendly, brave, helpful and selfless. The very opposite, in fact, of the common rat stereotype. Liam was admired and respected by both his officers and subordinates, and well-liked among the other regiments, both vermin and woodlander. Wolfrum, usually so resentful of any creature possessing those good attributes he lacked, grudgingly admired Liam for never lording his positive qualities over anybeast, or looking down on those who weren't like him. When Liam came across beasts who were closer to traditional vermin, he always treated them with sympathy and concern, not contempt. He always wanted to help them grow into proper goodbeasts, and had stood by Wolfrum's side when most others had given him up as a lost cause.

With supporters like him and Mykola on his side, Wolfrum felt a surge of confidence that he could succeed in turning things around at last. Hopefully his stay at Redwall would give him time to rest and sort out his thoughts. Maybe he could finally manage to be the kind of creature they encouraged him to be.

Mykola, patrolling up and down the lines to make sure everything was all right, was gladdened to see Wolfrum with a snoring shrew resting upon his shoulders, and not even looking any more bitter than anyrat else in Cermak's group. Perhaps his talk with the troubled soldier, and the friendly support of Liam, had finally made some kind of lasting impression on Wolfrum. He could only hope it would last…

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Mykola would never fathom how they managed it, but somehow the army found itself at Redwall before noon of the following day.

The Northlanders battled their exhaustion to march straight through the night and past sunrise. By midmorning, the hot summer weather had dried the road underpaw, engulfing the army in the thick plume of dust kicked up by their tired footfalls. Everybeast, except perhaps for Lady Mina and the swordfoxes marching at the head of the column, was fairly powdered with the evidence of their travels as they wound their way toward the red-bricked edifice now looming directly ahead. As they neared the front gate facing the path, Machus jumped out ahead of the column, raised his sword and called out the order to halt, finally ending their three-day journey from the edge of Mossflower.

Lord Urthblood's campaigns had taken Mykola to numerous settlements and communities, even to the odd fortress, but the fox had never beheld anything like Redwall Abbey. The crenellated battlements of the outer wall, the big double doors, the soaring belltower and slate roof peaks visible beyond the ramparts, all wrought from the same red sandstone that gave the place its name. It truly gave the impression of being both a bastion of strength to withstand any enemy, and a comforting sanctuary where anybeast could enjoy the Redwallers' famous hospitality.

Not that the creatures who currently lined the walltop, gazing out at the six-hundred strong force, seemed like they accustomed used to any kind of fighting… nor did they look very welcoming as their suspicious, worried glances travelled the width and breadth of the soldiers and the weaponry on display. Mykola could see mice, hedgehogs, squirrels, moles, otters and two badgers, one dressed in a simple woodlands smock and the other, making his heart jump at the sight, encased in familiar crimson armour; after more than a week apart, they were finally rejoining Lord Urthblood. Not a single fox, weasel, stoat, rat or ferret was to be seen among the Abbeyfolk, however, and from the expressions Mykola could make out from down here in the road, this might well have been the first time most had ever seen armed vermin, and they were less than happy about it.

He could see Urthblood engaged in a heated discussion with a mouse wearing a green habit - or at least it was heated from the mouse's side. The massive badger, implacable as always, carried on his half of the conversation with stolid assurance and measured gestures, as coolly in command of his surroundings as always. Then they and a few other beasts withdrew from the battlements, reappearing a short time later as they exited through the main gates. Urthblood and the mouse in green - a female, as it turned out - were accompanied by two male mice in brown habits, two squirrels, two otters and the other badger, also a female. The Badger Lord escorted the Redwallers to the vanguard of the swordfox brigade; Machus and Lady Mina stepped forward to be presented by him, while the remaining troops did their best to look as proper and upstanding as they could - no mean feat, considering that most of them teetered on the brink of collapse from their travels.

While the introductions started off pleasantly enough, things quickly grew more tense when the issue of inviting Machus into the Abbey came up. One of the male mice started protesting, just loudly enough for Machus and his fellow foxes to hear, that they "should not allow this creature into our home," a sentiment echoed by several of the other woodlanders. The Sword's calm, restrained reaction to their open suspicion reminded Mykola why he admired Machus so much, despite their disagreements. If he himself had found such discourtesy targeted at him, Mykola would probably have lashed back with equal brusqueness, diplomatic necessities notwithstanding, but Machus managed to remain polite and civil.

One of his mates, a slightly shorter fox called Kossuth, leaned over to whisper, "For a place famous for its hospitality, they sure don't show much to the captain, do they?"

"No, they sure don't," he responded. "It's strange, really. Urthblood has to've been here since… around the battle with the crows, I think. He's had plenty of time to convince these Abbeyfolk that we pose no harm to them, and that they can invite a fox into Redwall."

"Yeah, maybe they've had some particularly bad experiences with our kind. It's sad, but some beasts… By the fur!"

Redirecting his attention forward once more, Mykola saw what had caused his comrade's reaction. The Redwallers had apparently agreed to allow fox chieftain into their home on the condition that Machus relinquish his weapon. Drawing his sword from its scabbard and presenting it to one of their squirrels, the swordfox was as stunned as his hosts when they in turn presented their fabled Sword of Martin, holding the two blades side-by-side.

The swords were nearly identical!

"My word!" the short-legged fox exclaimed under his breath. "You don't suppose Lord Urthblood copied it from the original design?"

"Don't see how he could've," Kossuth answered. "He's never been to Redwall before, far as I've ever heard, and I don't think he could've made it so exactly alike from a mere description. Mayhap there's more going on here than meets the eye…?"

Mykola couldn't help but agree. While all foxes received specially crafted swords as part of their position (he could still remember the immense pride he'd felt when Urthblood presented him with his, after a long, gruelling training regimen during which he had succeeded in overcoming the disadvantage of his uneven legs), the blade born by their Sword was a cut above the rest: forged by their badger master from a special metal remarkably resistant to wear and tear, inset with a beautiful red pommel stone and fashioned into a more regal, splendid form than the impressive but simpler blades carried by the rest of the brigade. It was a truly magnificent weapon, and a testament to the trust and admiration Urthblood felt for his most trusted captain. How his sword could be so similar to the Redwallers' famous blade, Mykola couldn't fathom.

Before Mykola could ponder the matter more deeply, Urthblood instructed Machus to take the troops around to the south wall to make camp and rest themselves - an order that couldn't have been more agreeable to the exhausted, dust-caked creatures. As Mykola shuffled forward with the rest of his brigade, trying to keep his limp from being too obvious to the Abbeybeasts, he saw that one of the army otters had disengaged from its battalion, apparently with Urthblood's approval, and stood exchanging warm greetings with the younger of the otters on the Redwallers' side.

"Who's that otter?" he asked of his comrades. "I think I recognize him…"

"That's Warnokur, our newest recruit," answered Shroyer, another of his swordfox comrades. "He used to be a Redwaller, or maybe a part-time Redwaller is more like it, before he ran off to wander Mossflower in pursuit of adventure. Heard he left a wife and son behind at the Abbey, so that must be his pup he's cavorting with."

Some of the passing troops threw contemptuous glances towards their embarrassed otter comrade for his decidedly unmilitary display. But, seeing father and son reunited with such obvious joy and affection for each other, Mykola couldn't help but smile.

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Even with the prospect of a well-deserved rest (except for the moles, who were set right to work digging sanitation trenches along the forest's edge), the weary marchers quickly found themselves less than pleased with their situation. Most had assumed they'd be allowed into Redwall immediately upon their arrival, or at least supplied with some of its famous food and drink - assumptions their superior officers had done little to challenge, letting the troops believe as they wished if that provided the incentive to get them to the Abbey as quickly as possible. But as it turned out, Urthblood had only just this morning told the Redwallers about having vermin in his service. No warning had been given of their imminent arrival, apparently to demonstrate to the lax Abbeybeasts how an army of this size could come upon Redwall by surprise.

While the Badger Lord had certainly proven his point, Mykola wished it could have been done it in a way that hadn't entailed an all-night forced marched coming on the heels of those two dreadful days in the storm, and the fox knew most of his companions felt the same. That they had sworn fealty to Urthblood and regarded him as the saviour of the lands didn't mean that they had to welcome his every decision - or even necessarily agree with it.

And since Redwall had been granted no opportunity to prepare any provisions or supplies for them, the Northlanders were forced to rely on hardtack and foraging for awhile longer. But more than that, the Abbeyfolk still harbored distrust of all the rats, foxes and weasels who'd come upon them so suddenly, and showed little intention of allowing them inside. While Mykola understood that they could hardly be expected to accommodate over half a thousand soldierbeasts within their walls, let alone find quarters for that number, he'd at least hoped the Redwallers would willingly extend a friendly arm and comforting smile to all the tired, hungry and travel-worn creatures who'd journeyed to their Abbey. To instead find Redwall's gates locked in their faces, banishing them from this legendary sanctuary of hospitality and openness… well, that could dampen a soul's spirits as much as any storm.

This left them no recourse but to make the best of their situation, and hope that their good behaviour would eventually convince the Abbeybeasts to change their minds. Camping beyond the south wall, the soldiers broke formation as everybeast relaxed as best they could. Some took the opportunity to catch a nap under the trees shade of the forest fringes, but most opted to mingle with their comrades.

What bothered Mykola was that his fellow foxes did little to engage in the comradely spirit, for the benefit of either the troops or the Redwallers. The red-furred enforcers kept to themselves, as was their custom, patrolling the outskirts of the haphazard assembly for signs of trouble without joining their underlings for talk, jokes or sharing of meals.

"I appreciate your concern for the lower ranks," said Tolar as he and Mykola strolled along the fringes of the encampment, "but right now our duty is to just keep watch and make sure we're not embarrassed in front of the beasts we're trying to impress." The other fox nodded in the direction the walltop, where the faces of dozens of Redwallers could be seen studying the army outside their home with both interest and trepidation. Hopefully, the sight of otters and weasels trading stories and rats and shrews sharing a laugh would go a long way toward convincing them of the friendly, trustworthy nature of the armybeasts.

Another opportunity to win over the Redwallers presented itself that afternoon, when several of the Abbey leaders were escorted out for an inspection of the army. The troops had been issued the strictest of orders to be on their best behaviour; anybeast giving affront to the woodlanders during their tour would receive a reprimand making the hardships of their recent travels pale in comparison. Under these conditions, the meeting between Redwallers and soldiers was polite but not especially warm or friendly, the Abbeybeasts always glancing about nervously when they walked past any gathering of vermin.

Nevertheless, events went well enough that by day's end, all of Urthblood's captains - both woodlander and "vermin" - were invited into the Abbey for dinner and to stay the night. Come evening, Machus, Cermak, Abellon, Mina, Saybrook and the other top-ranked commanders in the detachment left their troops behind to enjoy the good food and soft beds of Redwall.

0000000000000000000

As darkness fell over the fair woodlands of Mossflower - the first night in many when the armybeasts were assured a long, proper rest - Mykola took a solitary walk through the encampment. By this time most of the soldiers had returned to their respective divisions to settle down for a well-deserved sleep, but a stone's throw from the wall he came upon a campfire around which a small group of mixed creatures had decided to spend their last waking moments in conversation.

Stopping to lean against a nearby tree just beyond the firelight, he decided to break with etiquette and listen in on the beasts sitting with their backs to him.

"It just ain't right," the rat in the group said, casting an envious glance at the warm yellow glow emanating from the Abbey windows visible over the wall. "Them gettin' t' enjoy all that scrumptious fare and warm, soft mattress, while we hafta make do wi' this offal - " he glanced at the hardtack biscuit in his paw with a sullen expression, " - and th' bare grass fer our beds."

"Oh, stuff it, Trev!" a shrew responded. "You rats're just natural-born complainers; sometimes I don't know how I stand marching in front of a column o' grousin', loudmouthed skintails."

Trev snorted, glaring at the two shrews in their gathering. "Yeah, like you long-nosed pygmy mice're any better! Ain't never heard any creatures argue 'n' gripe like you lot do. Didn't Bremo hafta threaten t' lash the fur off yer mangy hides if'n you didn't get movin' last night?"

The shrews looked less than pleased at being called out on their hypocrisy, but before they could shoot back an equally venomous retort, the remaining two member of their fireside quintet - a ferret and a hedgehog - picked up the conversation.

"An' what about you 'hogs?" the ferret inquired. "You were almost as reluctant t' move out as any shrews, yer officers practically havin' t' drag you by yer headspikes t' get you on th' road, while you were complaining an' moaning all the way. I allers thought you were s'posed t' be those goody-good, down-'o-earth, simple-living, wholesome types, you 'n' them moles…"

The hedgehog threw up his paws and laughed. "Hey, we spikedogs can be just as nasty and obst'nate as you vermin when we put our minds to it, an' since we are such "down-t'-earth" types, we have a hard time adaptin' to tyrannical officers dictating our lives an' interruptin' our beauty sleep fer nightly marches. And as fer being wholesome… well, let's just say I've heard the moles tell jokes 'round the campfires that'd make Lorsch's rats blush!"

The group shared a good-humoured chuckle at these words. One of the shrews reached into his backpack to pull out a wineskin. "Since ye're so daring, Alby, wouldja care fer a taste o' this?"

"What is it?" the hedgehog asked.

"Jus' some wine I traded from a vole family a week or so ago. It's really quite good."

Alby accepted the wineskin and squeezed a jet of red liquid into his mouth. "Mmm ... delicious," he said, licking his lips. "Thanks."

The hedgehog passed the sloshing pouch back to its owner, and the two shrews shared it between themselves for awhile before Trev the rat asked if he and the ferret would be getting a taste as well.

"Ain't much left," he got as a response. "'sides, don't reckon it's smart sharin' this with any other than upstandin' goodbeasts. Who knows what could happen if it passes o'er the lips o' you types? 'member what happened to that stoat who's now chained to 'is mouse matey?"

Trev's face turned sour. "Broggen 'ad a problem with that kind o' thing. Me and Uliam don't," he said, referring to his ferret comrade. "But yeah, I guess it is bit too much t' expect you t' share yer last drops o' wine with th' grousing, loudmouthed skintails who hadta carry yer upstanding goodbeast bums on our backs last night…"

"Oooo! Good 'un, Trev!" Uliam sniggered.

The shrew decided that he couldn't argue with that and lent the rat the near empty pouch. As Trev contentedly gulped down the liquid, Uliam gave him a concerned look. "I'm not sure 'bout this, Trev. You know what some o' th' cap'ns think 'bout on-duty drinking…"

"Well, the cap'ns ain't here, is they? They're inside yon Abbey, dinin' on the famous Redwall fare, probably enjoyin' th' finest liquors that place has t' offer. If they're content t' leave us out in the cold," he concluded, offering the last remnants of the wine to the ferret, " I think we're entitled to a li'l merrymaking of our own."

Uliam shrugged and accepted his friend's offer, draining the last drops of the wine. The shrew looked on forlornly. "There goes th' last o' Strudwick's seasons-old vintage…"

"An' it couldn'ta gone t' more deserving beasts!" the ferret said jovially as he returned the now completely empty wineskin.

The second shrew, who'd thus far held his silence, finally added his voice to the gathering. "Not sure it's wise speakin' so disrespectfully 'bout our captains, Trev. I know they c'n be kinda harsh and all, but they're still our commanders, who've led us t' victory through countless battles. Whaddya think they'd do if they was t hear you sayin' such things 'bout them behind their backs?"

"Not much chance o' that tonight, case you 'adn't noticed." The rat nodded towards the red-brick Abbey.

"The cap'ns ain't the only officers around, an' I'm sure the lower-ranked commanders wouldn't take any more kindly t' that kinda talk…"

"The officers call us infantry beasts all sorts o' things," Alby the hedgehog shot in. "'Lazy bums,' 'mangy lieabouts,' 'cowardly weaklings'… Sure, it's mostly in jest, but it's not necessarily th' kinda humour we ordinary soldierbeasts appreciate. If they ain't made o' sterner stuff to be able t' take a few jabs themselves, they ought not be officers t'all."

Trev addressed the shrew. "An' even you gotta agree, Fingall, them higher-ups can be real hard-tails sometimes. If we talk 'bout them like this when they ain't around, that's as like to mean th' problem's with them, not us."

"The problem? What problem?" Fingall sounded as if he thought his comrade's words bordered on treason. "If ye're so contemptuous o' yer superiors, why d'you even bother following 'em?"

"Just 'cos I dislike 'em at times don't mean I don't respect 'em", the rat countered, "or that I don't realize they're great leaders on th' battlefield. It just means I don't see th' point in bein' so all-fired subservient to 'em all th' time, 'specially when I'm enjoyin' private conversations with my comrades they got no business prying inta. I just wish they could leave us alone in matters that don't concern 'em."

Alby gave a chuckle. "'specially those swordfoxes. I mean, I admire their swordfighting skills much as anybeast, but by th' fur, can they be all high an' mighty! Remaining apart from th' lower ranks, actin' like they're better than all th' rest o' us…"

Trev laughed and nodded in agreement. "Ye're right on that point, spikey-butt! Yeah, a lotta our officers can be overbearing gits, but those foxes have 'em all beat in that regard. Why, if'n one o' them brushtails could overhear our talks, I'd bet they'd – "

"Order you to run twenty laps around the Abbey walls?"

The beasts around the campfire nearly jumped out of their fur at the sound of Mykola's voice, not realizing the swordfox had somehow managed to sneak up on their gathering despite his limp. Catching their breaths, the soldierbeasts stared up at the fox, whose stern expression did nothing to put them at ease. Trev stood up, nervously trying to salvage the situation.

"I… I'm sorry, Mikky! We were just joking. We didn't actually mean…"

Mykola cut him of with a laugh and then smiled at the apprehensive beasts before him. "It's all right; you're not in trouble. And you're right, actually: the officers CAN be overbearing gits at times. If I'd been sittting here with you, I probably would have been the first to agree."

He turned his gaze to the shrew who had offered the wineskin to his comrades. "However, while you're certainly entitled to enjoy a little drink during your private moments to help you relax, remember to keep it in moderation. The reason a lot of the officers disapprove of drinking is because we've had problem with several troopers being unable to handle it before, not just Broggen. I should know; I've had to take care of some of them myself. Now, you should all probably try to get some sleep. You've earned a long night's rest after this difficult march, and I suggest you take advantage of it."

He turned to rejoin his fellow foxes, throwing a glance back at the soldiers, who looked relieved that he'd happened to be the officer to overhear their conversation. "And don't worry: I'm sure the Redwallers will overcome their unease soon, and you'll be enjoying their hospitality as much as the captains in there with them now."

With that, Mykola walked back to his squad to turn in for the night, diminishing into a comically wobbling shadow against the deeper night before disappearing completely.

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It took a few days, but Mykola's prediction eventually came true.

On the morning of their arrival, Urthblood had informed the Redwallers that his soldiers were in need of baths, their quick cleansing at the River Moss insufficient to have thoroughly rinsed all the grime out of their fur. The Abbey leaders stood firm in refusing to allow the entire army inside their home, and instead devised a system in which buckets, barrels and tubs of water from their pond were carried out to the waiting troops, who took the opportunity to wash away all the dust from the road.

Shortly after lunch, in the meadow beyond the Abbey's south wall, the Northlanders commenced their first practice drills since their arrival. These military exercises, engaged in by Urthblood's woodlander and vermin species alike, were so furious and energetic that the watching Redwallers at first mistook the outbreak of activity for a mutiny within the army. While their subordinates drilled fiercely within their species regiments, the swordfoxes remained aloof, as in so many other matters, reserving a quiet spot in the nearby woods for their own practice that evening. Machus and his brigade were not ready to let the Abbeybeasts observe their own drills.

On their third day, the rank and file of Urthblood's army finally got their first taste of the famous Redwall fare, as the Abbey's kitchen staff spent the morning working to provide each soldier with half a loaf of bread along with plenty of various jams and fruit spreads. It was simple fare by Redwall standards, but the delighted expressions and profound outpouring of gratitude made plain how luxurious such fare tasted to the soldierbeasts. Later that day, as the drilling continued, two of Redwall's warriors got to try their paw at sparring with the chained mouse-stoat duo of Jans and Broggen, a dramatic and tense fight that would be talked about by both camps for days afterwards.

And finally, as the dawn of the fourth day broke upon the Abbey, Redwall's leaders elected to extend their hospitality to all the creatures of Urthblood's army. The soldiers would take turns entering the Abbey in groups of about a hundred at a time, given one hour each to enjoy all that Redwall had to offer. They'd been told to leave their weapons outside, as their hosts still didn't want so many armed vermin inside their walls. But how could anybeast complain about that arrangement, when in return they would be allowed to help themselves to all the best-quality food and drink, cool their paws in the pond, rest upon the luxurious, soft grass and simply soak up the warm, friendly atmosphere of this famous sanctuary of peace and comfort, as far from the harsh Northlands military life as could be imagined?

"TIMBER!"

Mykola paused in the midst of the Abbey grounds, glancing up from his filled plate - nutbread with yellow cheese, salad dressed with spiced cream and a slice of the mole specialty deeper 'n' ever pie - in time to see the top of the mighty elm disappear behind the southeast wall. That elm and its toppled companions of that morning had stood for almost as long as Redwall itself, or so Mykola had heard, having been used by the resident squirrels in recent generations as a shortcut over the Abbey walls. It was at Urthblood insistence - the very reason for the army's forced march to come upon Redwall without warning - that those trees were now being cut down to deny their use to any potential treeclimbing enemies who might take the Abbey by surprise. Not even Alexander, the leader of Redwall's squirrel Forest Patrol, could maintain his opposition to their felling in the face of over half a thousand armed soldierbeast appearing unheralded outside the Abbey gates. Of course, the very cozy acquaintance Alex had struck up with Lady Mina may have helped him see the error of his ways - to the point where he himself now personally oversaw the removal of those ancient forest giants.

Hefting his plate in one paw and a tankard of strawberry cordial in the other (the Redwallers had decided not to serve anything stronger with so many vermin among them), he strolled to the east lawns to find someplace where he could sit down and enjoy his meal. Since he didn't have his sword, there wasn't much point pretending to be on duty and alert, and he could get into the spirit of things as much as any lowly soldierbeast.

"Hey, mind if I join you?"

Liam came upon him, carrying his own loaded platter.

"Of course," the swordfox answered. "I'm always up for a bit of pleasant company!"

As they passed the last table laden with Redwall's signature cuisine, they saw Wolfrum eagerly helping himself to whatever vittles he came across. This was the fourth shift of Northlanders to take their turn inside the Abbey. Machus and Cermak had been leery about allowing the infamously troubleprone rat inside their hosts' home, but there was no question refusing entry to some soldiers and not others, so they'd decided to send in Mykola and Liam as part of the same group. As the two beasts who held the greatest sway over him, it seemed the prudent thing to do.

"Maybe you shouldn't bulk up on quite so many delicacies…"

Wolfrum turned around at the fox's words. His plate was packed with food to the point that it was almost falling of the edges, a spectacle that received scornful glances from a few of the less reserved Abbeybeasts.

"Hey, it's our first time inside this Abbey, so I'm gonna take advantage of their hospitality while I can. An' since they kept us outside their walls fer so long, it's only right that we're allowed t' help ourselves to a proper meal…"

"Even so, it's hardly polite to make such a greedy spectacle of yourselves. And remember, these folks have just decided to invite us into their home, in spite of their suspicions, precisely in order to see for themselves whether we are honourable, trustworthy and polite creatures. Going around hogging their fare like this might not be the best way to win them over."

For a moment, it looked as if Wolfrum might flare up in anger at the accusation. But to Mykola's immense relief, the rat quickly remembered his lessons from the past week and glanced down in shame towards his overbrimming plate.

"Mebbe I oughta put some of it back…"

"Placing th' food you've had yer greasy paws all over back on their tables? That'd look right sophistercated," Liam chimed in with a laugh. "Nah, take what you've got an' enjoy a hearty meal now. Just 'member to be a li'l less of a glutton in future."

Spying a clear area toward the eastern grounds, the fox bade the two rats to join him there to share their meal together. Reaching the spot, Mykola and Liam made to sit down beneath the shade of the fruit trees on the southern end of the orchard before noticing that Wolfrum had stopped in his tracks, a nervous look on his face.

"What's th' matter, Wolfie?" asked Liam.

"Uhhm… Sir, could we sit somewhere else?" Wolfrum asked in turn, nodding to indicate the object of his worry.

Mykola and Liam saw then what had caused the rat such concern. Close to the orchard stood a number of wooden beehives set up by the Redwallers near the wall, its inhabitants buzzing merrily in the air around the structures.

A few seasons ago in the Northlands when they'd been making camp, Wolfrum had had the misfortune of sitting down on an angry wasp, receiving a rather nasty sting on his rump. The sight of him jumping around while clutching his hindquarters and yelping in pain had led to a great guffaw from the scores of soldiers who witnessed it, which in turn led to more fights and arguments, followed of course by more punishments issued to Wolfrum. The whole episode had been a very unpleasant and hurtful one for him, and since that day he'd carried a latent fear of wasps, bees and other stinging insects, preferring to give them the widest possible berth.

"Of course, Wolfrum," the fox answered sympathetically. "I bet it's just as lovely on the north side of the orchard."

The three companions strolled over to the new spot, settling down beneath an apple tree. There they tucked into the Redwallers' cuisine, which might just have been the best any of them had ever tasted, and observed the world around them, watching their comrades milling about sampling everything Redwall had to offer in terms of food, drink, warmth and hospitality. Their woodlander hosts conducted themselves a bit anxiously in the vicinity of the soldierbeasts but occasionally overcame this trepidation enough to strike up conversations with them (in particular, a young mouse in green novice habit seemed to be getting on splendidly with the chained duo of Jans and Broggen), and the children ran about laughing and playing, albeit under the watchful eye of the resident badgermother, who took care not to let them stray too closely to any of their visitors. It was a day to make a beast grateful to be alive and to forget that the harsher world beyond these walls existed, to forget all about forced marches in the rain and mud, the gnawing hunger that could only be satisfied with bland hardtack biscuits and the merciless, bloody and chaotic frenzy of battle.

Wolfrum was the first to break the silence: "It is a beautiful sight, ain't it…?"

His two companions regarded him, rather surprised to hear such a gentle, upbeat observation from the rough-edged rat. "Yeah, it sure is," Liam agreed. "Such a contrast to th' life we Northlanders an' vermin usually lead that it's almost unbelievable." He glanced about a bit anxiously and lowered his voice, as if afraid somebeast might overhear his words. "I really ought not t' gossip about this, but I just heard some o' my mates, including some higher-ups, kickin' 'round the idea o' quittin' Lord Urthblood's forces and settlin' here permanently."

Mykola looked rather shocked that anybeast would voice such borderline treasonous thoughts so openly.

"Surely they can't be serious?" the fox answered, trying to be as discreet as possible. "Abandoning Lord Urthblood's cause at this crucial time? They shouldn't even be joking about such a thing!"

Liam looked a little taken aback by Mykola's attitude, but decided to press the matter anyway. "Gotta be honest, Mikky, but I c'n understand their thinkin'. I'm keepin' my voice down so's not to get 'em in any trouble, not 'cos I find their ideas treasonous or anything like that. I mean, they're used to th' harshness 'n' constant danger of a soldier's life. Coming here, to a place where everything's so peaceful, food's plentiful an' life seems so easy 'n' pleasant… Don't tell me you've not felt such temptations yerself. Or at least wondered what livin' here would be like fer you."

Mykola started to respond, but Wolfrum beat him to it. "I certainly 'ave…" Now that it was his turn to have shocked expressions turned towards him, he added: "I know, I know… It's just a fantasy o' mine. 'sides, I know they'd never accept a nastybeast like me inta their home."

Pondering his comrades' words for a few moments, and realizing there was no need to be so anxious about idle dreams, Mykola gave a good-natured chuckle to defuse the mood. "By the fur, I'm surrounded by traitors!" Noticing that the rats on either side of him seemed unsure whether he was kidding or not, he put a paw on each of their shoulders. "You're both right; anybeast would take livin' in a place like this over military life, given the choice." He turned serious again. "But we have to remember that while being at Redwall can indeed make you forget all the troubles of the outside world, it doesn't make them go away. This Abbey may be a small spot of peace and plenty, but it is just that – a small spot – and most of the lands, from the Northlands to Mossflower to Southsward, remain steeped in war and poverty. And they'll stay that, if we abandon our duties to settle down and live easy lives denied to most creatures. Our duty is to fight and struggle, to shed our blood, sweat and tears to make sure that one day, all the lands will be as peaceful and prosperous as this fair Abbey.

"Imagine it! A world where every creature can go to bed well-fed and content, secure in the knowledge that it's safe and under no threat from bandits, slavers, and pillaging hordebeasts, where those former bandits, slavers and hordebeasts are instead working alongside their former victims for the betterment of everyone, where everybeast treats each other with respect and friendliness regardless of species. That is precisely the kind of world we're trying to establish. Isn't that worth fighting and suffering for? Isn't that worth _dying_ for?"

The rats regarded him silently for a while after he finished, awed by his eloquence and the vision that he'd spoken of. Then Wolfrum grinned. "Didja practice that beforepaw, or are y' really able t' come up with such overblown speeches on a moment's notice?"

"Yeah," Liam added, "fer a moment there, thought I was lissenin' to mighty Machus! Or mebbe even Lord Urthblood 'imself!"

The group burst out in laughter at the rats' joshing, including Mykola, who could take a good-humoured joke at his expense. When their guffawing died down, he responded, "Actually, I have been practicing grandiose speeches like this before, in a way. You'd be surprised how often I have to motivate the troops with sweeping visions of all we hope to accomplish. After a while, it's developed into a speech that I tailor to the occasion."

"It's true, though," said Liam. "'Tis indeed a vision worth fighting fer. I hope to all th' fates that I'll live to see the day it's fulfilled. Though you can never be certain o' that, 'specially if ye're a fighting beast…"

"That's also true, unfortunately," the fox agreed. "But we'll be leaving a better world after us, at least. And when we're in Dark Forest, if such a place exists, we'll be able to watch over the living who enjoy the fruits of our labour and feel their gratitude. That's not a bad thing to look forward to either."

Sensing that perhaps the conversation had turned a bit too metaphysical for his company's comfort, he turned to the troubleprone rodent to his left.

"And as for you being a nastybeast, Wolfie… Well, I suppose that is true to a degree, there's no point denying it. But over these past days I've seen all the effort you've put into changing that, and I know Liam has too. I know how you volunteered to carry that shrew on your back all through the night march, how you've walked away when you've been taunted and heckled rather than respond in anger, how you've been able to recognize your faults and take responsibility for yourself. I think this is the most progress you've made along those lines in all the time I've known you, and I can't even begin to tell you how gratified I am by that."

Wolfrum couldn't help but blush at those words. "It's… it ain't nothin', really…"

"Yes, it is! I've told you before how skeptical some of the other commanders are about you ever improving. Well, I think you're well on your way to proving them wrong once and for all!"

Wolfrum looked at him, his face shining with hope and sheer, unadulterated pride. "You… you really mean that?"

"I wouldn't deserve to carry the rank of swordfox, or anything else for that matter, if I didn't. I'm proud of you, Wolfrum, and I mean that sincerely. Never forget that, and let it inspire you to keep up the good effort you've made ever since our talk under that spruce a week ago."

Leaning back against the apple tree to enjoy what was left of the deeper 'n' ever pie, he added a few more words for good effect. "Now, let's enjoy this wonderful food and drink and all the hospitality of Redwall while we can. We've earned it. And when it's time to move out again, we can keep the memory of it as the ideal we want for all the lands. The greatest thing this visit has provided for us is hope, and that is the most important thing we need to keep in our hearts, through all our journeys and travails together."

No snarky comments greeted his words this time, for the two rats were so genuinely moved by them that there was no need lighten the mood. They simply followed the advice of their friend, for now Mykola was sure that Wolfrum did indeed look upon him as that, and tucked into their fare, after which they were content to rest and watch the world go by waiting for the call to exit Redwall to make way for the next group.

For once, life seemed like it was going in just the right direction… 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Hello again, dear readers! Me and Highwing got this finished quicker than the last one, and it's now ready for your reading pleasure. Dear ol' Wing had a real editing marathon right now; very impressive work! Thank you so very much! Be sure to give him your thanks if you read his stories (and since this is based on those, be sure to do so)._

_Also, a thanks to those who've been kind enough to review this fic. It means a lot to me._

_Once again, based on Highwing's "The Crimson Badger". Contains spoilers. _

In retrospect, Mykola later realized, things had started going downhill from the moment the hare arrived at the abbey.

The whole incident had left everybeast, Redwaller and Northlander alike, shocked and confused. A hare claiming to serve with the Long Patrol, coming into their Abbey and casting the most dire of aspersions and accusations upon Lord Urthblood - even going so far as to attempt to assassinate that badger, claiming that Urthblood was the enemy of everybeast alive, and that his brother Urthfist had ordered that he be slain if he ever set foot near his ancestral home of Salamandastron? Nothing in any of their combined seasons could have prepared them for such an unexpected development.

After that, everything happened quickly. Convening a council with his captains that very night, the badger decreed he would be leaving for Salamandastron the following morning, and taking most of his troops with him. Apparently, if this visiting hare was who he claimed to be, Urthfist and the Long Patrol under his command harbored a long-standing hatred of vermin, and since Urthblood had opted not to consult them before taking such creatures into his service or involving them in his campaigns, they'd come to view him as an evil tyrant bent on conquering all the lands. As such, Urthblood felt he had no choice but to travel to the mountain with his army to sort things out… by force if necessary, for Urthfist might have become so unhinged by his hatred that there could be no reasoning with him.

Another surprise came soon after that when Urthblood announced that a small force of his troops would remain stationed at Redwall to help guard against his brother in case Urthfist decided to seek him out there. But the greatest surprise of all was just which creatures those would be…

"The entire swordfox brigade?" Mykola asked incredulously.

"Those're his orders," Tolar responded. "Machus, me, you, every one of us. Lord Urthblood seems to think we'd be the ones best able to hold our own against the Long Patrol if they succeed in breaching the gates."

"But we're Lord Urthblood's most skilled swordsbeasts! Surely he'd want us of all his troops along on such a vital mission as this?"

Tolar shrugged. "Who can say what goes through that badger's mind? He must have his reasons for wanting us here rather than at his side. With that prophetic sight of his, it's anybeast's guess. Maybe he's foreseen some crucial event in the near future that requires our presence here at Redwall."

Mykola sighed. "Sometimes I wish Lord Urthblood would just tell us plainly what future events he's seen, so we can properly prepare for them rather than stumble about blindly, hoping it will all make sense after the fact."

"You know it doesn't work like that; he's explained it enough times. How he often just senses the general shape of things without knowing the exact details. Sometimes I think it's more like he senses probabilities and likelihoods rather than certainties, where small changes could completely alter the outcome of things. In any event, it's not our place to speculate about such matters. Our place is to follow his orders, and if he says we're to remain at Redwall, that's what we'll do."

And they were not the only troops who would be staying behind. On top of the swordfoxes, Urthblood assigned another thirty-or-so beasts to help guard the Abbey. What surprised both the Redwallers and the Northlanders was the choice of soldiers that would remain behind: an uneven mix of rats and weasels, with a few shrews thrown in for good measure. The Abbeybeasts demonstrated some clear misgivings that mostly vermin had been selected to be quartered in their home (and shrews weren't always the most agreeable of woodlanders either), but Urthblood insisted that he'd chosen his troops most carefully for the task.

One choice in particular shocked the fox, and quite a few others besides. Wolfrum had been among the troops culled from Cermak's platoon for Abbey duty, and now the rat would be staying at Redwall for an indefinite amount of time, perhaps even to autumn if that was how long it took to sort things out with Urthfist.

Why Wolfrum, of all the five hundred and eighty-two beasts serving in this detachment, had been among those chosen for this assignment, Mykola couldn't even begin to fathom. As much as the fox was proud of the rat for the genuine effort he'd put into bettering himself, Mykola still wasn't sure he'd trust Wolfrum to stay completely out of trouble if he'd have to remain among peaceful woodlanders for an open-ended stay. And without Lord Urthblood around to personally oversee discipline, might that tempt him to fall into old habits?

But he also realized that openly displaying any such distrust for Wolfrum after all his efforts would be highly unfair. Things had been going better lately than Mykola could ever remember, and there was no reason to start having doubts about it now. Liam was also staying behind, and between the two of them, Wolfrum could hopefully be kept on the straight and narrow, even though he appeared to be doing quite well on his own.

And so that afternoon, the troops chosen to remain at Redwall to guard it against any vendetta-pursuing badgers and their army of vermin-hating hares gathered outside to bid farewell to their comrades departing for the Badger Lords' ancient mountain, where they could hopefully act to forestall calamity for all the lands. The only bumpy spot in the proceedings occurred when Urthblood discovered one of the novice mice hiding among Captain Abellon's brigade; the Abbey youth had grown so smitten with the idea of becoming a warrior that he'd disguised himself like a soldier in order to march off with them. He was quickly pulled out of the troop column and sent back in to the disapproving reception of the Abbess and Badger Mother. After that, the young mouse stood up on the wall watching the roughly five hundred and thirty creatures kick up another plume of dust as they disappeared down the south path.

Although he would never voice it to his superiors and scarcely dared admit it to himself, Mykola did feel a certain guilty relief at being allowed to stay at the Abbey awhile longer. Over the past days, he'd grown quite fond of its food, its soft grass and tamped paths, and the warm atmosphere that permeated this peaceful haven. The opportunity to spend more time here did please him, and since there were now only a little over two-score of them assigned to Redwall, they might even be allowed to sleep indoors. His sense of honor and duty vaguely nagged at him for these selfish considerations, for he knew his badger master might be marching off to war, and his proper place was at Urthblood's side in any battle. Then again, as an obedient soldier, his place was wherever the Badger Lord ordered him to be, and for now he'd been ordered to remain right where he was. Unless and until Urthfist appeared at Redwall's gates, their biggest concern might turn out to be losing their fighters' edge from this pampered, easy lifestyle, but that's what drilling was for, wasn't it?

Besides, dwelling for a time among such tolerant, compassionate creatures as the Redwallers might do Wolfrum some good. He'd made great strides lately in overcoming the nastier side of his nature, and the chance to see firstpaw the benefits of living as a sociable, open and friendly beast might further encourage him to change his ways.

Yes, if nothing unforeseen happened, Wolfrum looked to truly be on his way to turn his life around…

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It was nearly noon the day after Urthblood's departure, and Wolfrum was making his way along the eastern lawns. He'd just awoken from his first night in a Redwall bed after standing walltop night watch, and the Abbeybeasts had indeed been able to find room in their dormitories for the Badger Lord's soldiers. The firm-but-yielding mattresses and crisp, clean sheets had proven every bit as comfortable as he'd been led to expect, although unlike Mykola he spared not a thought as to whether he and his comrades would go soft from staying here much longer. At the back of his mind, however, he knew he'd have a hard time readjusting to his bedroll once they got on the road again.

But any such distant concerns over the future were outshined by the burgeoning contentment he felt at these surroundings, and knowing that he could look forward to more of this sweet Abbey life for some time to come. It would be worth the hassle of adapting to the rigours of military life again if he could enjoy a prolonged stay at the Abbey; serving under Lord Urthblood, such opportunities presented themselves rarely, and it was best to take advantage of them while you could.

His cozy bedrest, and the atmosphere of Redwall in general, contributed to Wolfrum feeling truly happy and content for one of the first times in his life. Aside from enjoying the full range of the Abbey's amenities, he also had the friendly support of Mykola and Liam, and he'd succeeded in bettering his situation both through their talks and encouragement, and through his own efforts. He wanted to make them proud of him, and now he truly felt that he had achieved that. He felt hope, more than anything else, that things could change. When he'd begun his journey to Redwall, he'd sensed that it could be the start of something new and significant; that had turned out to be true, and so far those changes had been nothing but positive.

The only canker in his happiness was that ever since awakening, whenever he passed through the corridors of the Abbey proper or strolled through the grounds, his fellow soldiers were giving him snickering glances, chuckling at him and generally treating him with even more contempt than usual. Why that was, Wolfrum had no idea; ever since arriving at Redwall, he'd avoided any fights or heated arguments with anybeast. He'd exchanged a few gruff words over some minor unfriendly jabs, but that was the extent of it. Maybe it was unrealistic to expect everybeast to reconcile with him after seasons of enmity, but he couldn't figure out why they'd started to behave like this just now.

However, he was about to get an answer…

"Heya, Wolfie!"

Wolfrum stopped and glanced aside to see Cadogan, a corporal from Captain Bremo's division. He leaned casually against the wall of the dormitory wing, in the company of two of his fellow shrews. Now that he'd gotten the rat's attention, he flashed a smile that might've been mistaken as benign by the casual observer, but which Wolfrum knew all too well was his way of expressing contempt and superiority towards those he disliked.

"Enjoyin' this fine Redwall morning?" the shrew asked, his two comrades wearing the same apparently amiable expressions.

"Uhhm… sure," Wolfrum responded, not believing for a moment that Cadogan held one iota of genuine interest in his well-being.

"Yeah, must be lovely fer you, enjoyin' all the fine food 'n' drink, the warm sunny weather, strollin' 'round like you own th' place…"

Wolfrum naturally recognized the shrew's tone of sarcasm. It was hardly the first time Cadogan had pestered the rat with implied insults and false friendliness… and much more besides. For several seasons now, Cadogan had been a thorn in his side. Having joined Urthblood's forces around the same time as Wolfrum, the shrew quickly established himself as the kind of orderly, rule-abiding soldierbeast most officers desired. He never showed open disrespect to his superiors, he only disregarded orders if he was certain to get away with it, he managed to gather friends around him, and he only got into fights with unpopular creatures sure to take the blame for any altercations.

And Wolfrum, being highly unpopular with both officers and soldiers, ranked as one of Cadogan's favourite targets. It was bad enough when the shrew confronted his victims with undisguised hostility right from the start, but when Cadogan feigned cordiality it was a sure sign that he had something really nasty up his sleeve.

"Whaddya want, Cad?" the rat shot back, unable to keep the hostility from his voice.

"Hey, I'm just tryin' t' make some friendly conversation!" Cadogan looked offended, while his two companions put on expressions of similar mock umbrage. "Ain't a fellow allowed t' do that?"

"Sure… I guess... " Wolfrum responded, knowing that "friendly" conversation was probably the last thing on the shrew's mind right now.

Cadogan's easy smile slipped back into place. "Aye, 'tis a wonderful place, ain't it? Shame so many of our comrades ain't here t' enjoy it. Like Kefrin, fer instance…"

Wolfrum's ears pricked. So that was the angle his nemesis was playing? Wolfrum didn't even try to keep the hostility from his voice any longer.

"Whadda _you_ care 'bout any of us rats, shrew?"

"Oh, there's rats, an' then there's rats," Cadogan sneered. "Just sayin', I think it's rather sad, a nice fellow like 'im lyin' buried in th' cold, dark earth with one eye stabbed out an' his throat torn up, while you - the coward who abandoned 'im after he tried t' save you from the crows - gets t' stroll 'round enjoyin' such a fine Redwall day…"

These comments did sting, for Wolfrum had come to feel his proper share of guilt over Kefrin during his more self-reflecting moments these past few days. But he would not give Cadogan the satisfaction of seeing it.

"You never gave a damn 'bout Kefrin! You didn't even know 'im! Ye're just usin' his death as an excuse t' harass me!"

"I'd say anybeast's got th' right t' harass you after what you did, an' fer how you've behaved ever since joinin' this army. You been nothin' but trouble fer us, keepin' the entire army delayed in th' mornings with yer laziness, sowin' discord an' violence in th' ranks with yer foulness, bein' vicious 'n' rude to every goodbeast we meet…"

Wolfrum knew he should just walk away before his taunter riled him up any further, and that this setting was the last place to engage in any such argument. But he simply could not let stand these things Cadogan was saying.

"Yeah, ye're smart enough t' only be vicious to any 'vermin' civilians you happen upon. Like that weaselmaid you blackmailed into spending - "

"You ain't got a single drop of upstandin', goodbeast blood in your veins!" the shrew interrupted to drown out mention of his own transgression; Wolfrum smiled inwardly that he'd managed to poke at Cadogan's own tender spot. "Ye're a disgrace t' everything this army stands fer, an' you ain't fit fer servin' alongside us, or any other group o' decent creatures fer that matter. Dunno why Lord Urthblood didn't jus' slit yer throat alongside th' rest o' yer bandit gang. It's what you deserved."

Under other circumstances, Wolfrum would have been sorely tempted to throttle anybeast goading him thus, but now he found it easy to resist his violent urges. It wasn't just awareness of the trouble he'd be in if he started a fight here; it was more the serenity of the Abbey itself, that same peace of mind and calming of spirit he'd been feeling all morning. Here, it was simply pointless rising to such bait. Furthermore, he remained committed to following Mykola's and Liam's advice in controlling his temper and not letting other beasts get under his skin. Now, gazing into Cadogan's face, Wolfrum could discern the faint traces of a mocking sneer beneath the mien of false condemnation. He realized there was no genuine moral judgment in the shrew's accusations; they were just meant to rile him up and undo all the progress he'd made over the past week. And Wolfrum would not let that happen.

"I know what ye're trying t; do," he growled with a wicked, knowing grin, "gettin' me so mad I'll go 'n' start a brawl with you that'll land me in trouble. Well, I ain't fallin' fer it, so bugger off, ya mean li'l pipsqueak!"

For several heartbeats, Cadogan and his companions just stared at Wolfrum, astounded by the failure of their bullying efforts. Then a cold, vicious smile spread across the shrew's face, his earlier pretence at condemnation vanished as he adopted a different tactic for getting to the rat.

"Ahh… been havin' yer liddle talks with Liam an' that gimpy fox recently, ain'tcha? Real lucky fer you, havin' them 'round t' coddle an' babysit you whenever you get inta trouble. You c'n be sure you wouldn't be here enjoyin' th' hospitality of Redwall if not fer them."

"Yeah. 'Cos they're real friends - somethin' you wouldn't know anything about." Wolfrum took a deep breath and turned to walk away, refusing to let his inner rage get the best of him.

Cadogan, however, was far from done.

"Tho' I guess it's wunnerful, havin' a friend like that fox," he boasted to his comrades, loud enough for the rat to hear. "Somebeast you c'n trust, confide in, somebeast ye're willing t' get _really_ cozy with unner a spruce during a stormy night!" He practically shouted the last part, causing some beasts within earshot to turn their curious gazes towards him.

This stopped Wolfrum dead in his tracks, his blood suddenly feeling as cold in his veins as the River Moss on a midwinter's night. Surely Cadogan couldn't know…?

He spun about, his shocked, icy gaze boring into the shrew. "What'd you say…?"

A malevolent grin lit up Cadogan's entire face, the expression of a beast who'd just played his trump card in a match with a hated opponent. "Ah yeah, I fergot t' mention that. On the first night o' that terrible storm our fearless leaders had us marchin' through, I saw you bein' guided away by Mykola, an' didn't reckern it'd be proper leavin' th' two o' you unattended. So I snuck out after you an' hid just outta sight from that spruce. Couldn't quite catch ev'ry word, what with th' rain 'n' thunder, but these shrew ears o' mine're quite sharp, y' know."

"You… You…" was all that Wolfrum could sputter, overcome with anger and fear.

"An' what I could pick up was quite intriguin'. You moanin' 'bout how those evil, nasty soldiers abused you jus' fer leaving Kefrin to die, yer fox buddy pleading with you t' look deep, deep within yerself to find th' true goody goodness in yer heart, an' you sobbin' 'bout how you were this poor, misunderstood beast an' that th' world was so cruel to you. Really fascinatin' stuff, I gotta say.

"Oh, but th' best part came at the end… T'was really quite touchin' t' see how strong th' bond 'tween you two was, that you were willin' to let him fondle yer malehood like that. Hadn't realized you were that close, but I guess love c'n blossom in th' most unlikely places. Truly a wunnerful experience, observing such a beautiful, intimate moment 'tween two adult malebeasts…"

As Cadogan's comrades burst out laughing, it was all Wolfrum could do to keep himself from drawing his sword and beheading the shrew on the spot. Bristling with rage, he stomped over to his tormentor and snarled, "If you ever dare to say anything about this to anyone, you little cu - "

"'Fraid it's a tad too late fer that, Wolfie," Cadogan cut him off with an unwavering grin of malice. "Or ain'tcher noticed the other soldiers acting a liddle… peculiar 'round you this morn?"

At that moment, something died within Wolfrum. For a few heartbeats he could only tremble in shock and terror as the implications of Cadogan's words sank in, stunned at the realization that the awkward and embarrassing physical contact Mykola had sworn would remain between just the two of them was now common knowledge.

And all because this vile little troublemaker had gone out of his way to spy on Wolfrum, and then waited until Urthblood and most of the other officers were gone to reveal the secret to everybeast in the detachment. All in order to cause Wolfrum as much pain as possible, and just at the moment when things were starting to look better.

His shock turned to blistering hot hate. Cadogan actually seemed a little frightened as the rat's eyes started to mist over red with rage and his paw crept down to the sword at his side. Wolfrum hissed, "I'm gonna…"

The shrew's paw went to his own shortsword, and his companions grabbed for their own blades as well. "You ain't gonna do nuthin'!" Cadogan spat. "We outnumber you three t' one, an' we're all decent swordsbeasts. An' in case you forgot, we're at Redwall now. If Machus catches you so much as mussin' th' headfur on any beast here, he'll skin you alive. So why don't you just remove yer paw from yer fishsticker, matey?"

With a supreme effort of will, Wolfrum released the grip on his sword, causing the shrews to relax their own wary grips on their hilts. "T'were just a medical exam, fer me achin' muscles," he said, the energy drained from his voice. "T'weren't nuthin' romantic 'bout it ... "

"Sez you," Cadogan sneered.

"It's th' truth!" Wolfrum shouted.

"Mebbe 'tis, an' mebbe t'ain't. But good luck tryin' t' convince anybeast here o' that now!"

"How… how could you…?" Wolfrum growled through teeth gritted so hard they risked shattering.

The nasty smile returned to Cadogan's face. "T'ain't no more'n what you deserve, rat. Prancin' 'round pretendin' you c'n change, that yer fox buddy's advice'll make you grow into a proper goodbeast. But we all know that's rubbish. You ain't foolin' nobeast. Ye're corrupt to yer core, Wolfrum, an' ain't nuthin' ever gonna change that. All yer friends've done is allow you a few more seasons in life you'd not've had otherwise. An' believe me, those seasons're coming to an end soon…"

Wolfrum, cast into a state of utter despondent confusion by this turn of events, could find no words to respond to the shrew's tirade. Sensing the rat's helplessness, Cadogan twisted the knife deeper.

"Open yer eyes, Wolfie. Mykola an' Liam only help th' useless rabble in this army 'cos it makes 'em popular. They gather all th' lowlifes around 'em, their own liddle clique they can order 'round, revellin' in th' power it gives 'em. An' gettin' scum like you t' behave reas'nably well looks good on their record. But make no mistake, th' moment they realize ye're more trouble'n ye're worth, they'll abandon you to th' wrath of your comrades… an' the tender mercies o' Machus an' his foxes."

Wolfrum trembled, the shrew's words leaving him paralyzed in a maelstrom of torment, anger, despair and shame. Seeing that he'd succeeded in breaking the rat, Cadogan simply leaned in to snarl, "Now, do us all a favour, will ya? Turn 'round, put yer tail over yer private parts, an' get yer ugly mug outta our sight!"

Normally, Wolfrum was adamant about not crying, no matter what pain or indignity he suffered. He would not stoop to so unmasculine a level as to shed tears, whether out of fear, sadness, or shame. But so overwhelmed was he by all those emotions, and many darker ones besides, that it became too much for him. Feeling water starting to well up in his eyes, the rat turned around and walked away, praying that the shrews hadn't seen it.

Unfortunately, one of Cadogan's fellow shrews turned toward his corporal and said, loud enough for Wolfrum to hear, "Hey, Cad, didja see that? I think the liddle faggot's startin' to cry!"

Cadogan nodded, his seemingly ever-present mocking smile plastered on his features. "Think ye're right, Dwern. Well, he c'n allers go bawl his eyes out to Mykola. I'm sure that fox would be more'n willin' to… comfort him."

The shrews laughed anew while Wolfrum stalked across the lawns, sometimes passing one of his fellow soldiers who couldn't help but grin or chuckle at him too since they knew everything Mykola had done to him under that spruce during the storm on that night - or thought they did. He didn't bother trying to preserve any dignity, for he had none left. He simply continued to walk, wanting to be away from everybeast present, head hanging, tail dragging the ground, teeth gritted and with tears streaming down his cheeks, wishing that he could just continue marching to the end of the world and throw himself over the edge.

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"You promised nobeast would ever find out!"

"I'm sorry, Wolfrum, I really am, but how could anybeast know that little bastard was going to sneak up on us and eavesdrop like that? That's as much an affront to me as it is to you!"

Mykola and Wolfrum stood upon the southern ramparts, overlooking the meadow where Urthblood's army had camped during their stay at Redwall. The rat had sought out his protector shortly after the confrontation with Cadogan, confronting him on the Abbey's walltop walkway. Mykola now sought to calm his protégé, who seemed on the verge of an hysterical breakdown.

"You… you coulda kept better watch on our surroundin's… you coulda gone out t' make sure nobeast was there… you coulda kept yer voice down… you coulda…you coulda…" the rat sputtered, his entire body quivering with indignation, the fur on his cheeks still damp, his eyes red from both tears and rage.

"Wolfum, be reasonable!" the fox implored. "I had to give you my full attention, both in healing your wounds and making you see the error of your ways. There was no reason to suspect anybeast else would brave that downpour just to spy on us."

"But they did, didn't they?" Wolfrum shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" Mykola whispered, as a group of his fellow foxes farther along the walltop threw curious glances their way at the rat's outburst. "You're embarrassing yourself!"

"Embarrass m'self?" The rat gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm way past th' point o' havin' t' worry 'bout that, in case you ain't noticed. Now I'm th' laughingstock o' this whole entire army! I lost all chance o' ever gainin' a shred o' respect from anybeast!"

"It… it doesn't have to be as bad as that, Wolfrum. I really think you're overreacting. In a few days I'm sure this whole thing will blow over, and everybeast will forget all about it."

"You really berlieve that, even fer a moment? They'll hound me over this 'til my dying day!"

The fox had to admit that Wolfrum was probably right. Whenever the rat found himself entangled in embarrassing situations, like the one with the wasp, Wolfrum's many enemies would remember it and use it to taunt him whenever they could. And this latest malicious rumor was much more embarrassing than anything he'd had to face before.

While it was fairly routine for the healers to treat injuries or afflictions that were decidedly uncomfortable for their charges, it wasn't something talked about openly. If the troops had found out about the examination he'd given Wolfrum – and their imaginations were given free rein to come up with various implications of it – they would have all the fodder in the world to make the rat's life a living hell.

The fact that this had happened just as everything was going so well, just as he'd managed to get Wolfrum to truly try to better himself, angered Mykola beyond belief and made him hate Cadogan for what the shrew had done. But right now, his main focus must be on trying to salvage the situation, so that all the work and progress over the past week hadn't been in vain.

"Wolfrum, I understand that this must be very difficult for you. But you must try and pull through, no matter how hard it might be. If you let Cadogan and his cronies get to you, you'll only bury yourself in deeper misery and everything we've achieved these past days will go to waste…"

"What in Hellsgates does it matter whether I improve m'self now? No matter what I do, I'll never be accepted or respected by anybeast in this fur-sodden army after today. How could I possibly get inta any misery deeper'n that?"

"Oh, believe me, you can!" the fox responded. "If you start any trouble over this now, Machus will give you a punishment, with Lord Urthblood's full sanction, that'll make your fellow soldiers' ridicule seem pleasant in comparison! I should know: I've witnessed them myself."

"'Machus,' 'Machus'…" the rat spat. "Allers about Machus, ain't it? That bastard's allers breathin' down my neck, blamin' me fer ev'rything, tryin' t' make life miserable fer me. Why can't you ever stand up t' him?"

Mykola was growing rather irritated with his underling's uncooperative attitude, even if he did appreciate the rat's torment. "Wolfrum, I've advocated on your behalf to him countless times! And often at risk to my own standing and reputation in his eyes. You should know that by now. But I cannot go against a direct order from him, and if you do anything foolish around these Abbeyfolk we're trying to impress, I'll be helpless to keep him from resorting to his preferred methods of dealing with you."

"So that's it? I just gotta grin an' bear it, pretendin' everything's alright while my mates go around sniggerin' at me, just 'cos that brushtailed bully won't let me settle accounts with that shrewy nastywhiskers in me own way? Tolerate insults an' jeers, just 'cos a bunch of stupid, cloistered mice might take offense at seein' an honest scrap?"

Mykola was getting really annoyed now. "If you could stop and think about somebeast other than yourself for a moment, these 'stupid mice' invited us into their community despite their misgivings about us, offered us their food, their beds and their hospitality. The least we can do is respect their rules and not behave like barbarians in the midst of their home. And your issue with Cadogan has nothing whatsoever to do with them. If you decide to take matters into your own paws and start a ruckus here, I would have to agree with Machus that you'd deserve to be punished."

Wolfrum glared at his companion, wearing the expression of a beast betrayed. He would continue arguing his position even if it meant abandoning all reason.

"Ye're on his side now? 'ere I thought you were tryin' t' help me, but ye're just toadyin' upta him, worryin' we don't ruin relations with this damn Abbey!"

"Calm down, you blockhead," the fox answered, striving to maintain his composure. "You know that's not true. I took it upon myself to try to help you, over the skepticism of my superiors. You could at least show some appreciation for the risks I've taken for your benefit. Since you're my responsibility, I'll be getting into as much trouble as you if you do anything stupid. If for no other reason, at least try to remain civil for my sake!"

But Wolfrum's confrontation with the shrew had left his mind so clouded with frustration and rage that all he wanted was to lash out at anybeast around him who didn't agree with him. And that left Mykola standing alone before the storm of the rat's wrath.

And a certain accusation that Cadogan had made against Mykola and Liam now resurfaced in Wolfrum's fevered brain.

"Ah, that's what it's all about, ain't it? That's why you behave all nice 'n' friendly to us outcasts, so's ye'll look good! You c'n use me t' show how successful you are in turnin' me decent, so ye'll get in Urthblood's and Machus's good graces. Makin' yerself popular an' powerful, havin' beasts like me look up t' you an' follow you. You don't give a damn about me, do you?"

Mykola stood speechless, stunned at the rat's baseless and absurd accusation… and that he'd the nerve to voice it at all.

"Yah, that's how creatures like you work!" the rat continued with his tirade. "Ye're born crippled, with that gimpy leg o' yers, nobeast likin' you, an' ye're desperate t' get to th' top any way y' can. You gather beasts 'round you who're just as worthless as you are, so's you c'n feel superior to 'em, boss 'em around, bask in their admiration 'n' gratitude. That's why you stick so close t' me: 'cos nobeast else could stand bein' around ya!"

Wolfrum might have gone on, but he stopped when he realized Mykola's blade lay upon his collarbone, it's keen edge a whisker away from his neck. The fox had drawn his sword and brought it to bear with such fluid speed that Wolfrum didn't realize what was happening until it had already happened.

Mykola regarded Wolfrum with outer coollness, but something dangerous smoldered in the depths of his eyes. "I'm not so lame or worthless that I can't handle my blade as well as any fox in my brigade."

And then his sword was resheathed at his side, as quickly as it had come out; the whole thing had happened so fast that it left Wolfrum wondering whether any weapon had even been brandished against him at all. No Redwaller had seen the sword drawn, and even Mykola's fellow foxes might have missed it, if they'd not already been looking in this direction.

"You ungrateful little wretch…" he growled at Wolfrum. "Do you have any idea how much I've done for you? I've worked my arse off from the day I met you, keeping you out trouble, convincing Cermak and Machus to let me talk with you rather than let you suffer some well-deserved lashings, protecting you, guiding you, comforting you, sticking with you through every ruckus and upheaval you cause within the army, standing by your side and never giving up on you after you return to your usual, irresponsible, selfish, vicious self!

"You think this gains me respect from my fellow officers? My coddling of you has only made them consider me soft and weak-hearted. And popular among the rank-and-file? I'd be much more popular if I devoted my time and energies to the well-behaved, orderly troops rather than troublemakers like you. And as for equality… let me tell you something: if I wanted the company of an equal, you'd be the last creature in the world I'd ever approach for that purpose!"

At first, Wolfrum simply stood looking shocked and frightened at seeing his friend address him with such open hostility. A wave of despair washed over him as he realized just what their angry exchange meant for their relationship and, just for a moment, shame tugged at his conscience over having said such evil things about his mentor. But his flash of insight quickly died out as his expression turned bitter again. It was as if he'd lost all hope of salvaging things, and was instead determined to run them into the ground out of pure spite. After all, if Mykola would dare to draw his sword against Wolfrum, then there wasn't much left to salvage, was there?

"Well, if y' hate my company so much," he muttered, "I ain't gonna torture you no more. You go be with all them fine, orderly soldiers an' get their respect 'n' devotion instead!" Shaking with a mix of indignation and nerves and cursing under his breath, the rat turned and stormed down the wall stairs, leaving both creatures in a turmoil of anger and sorrow; each knew that the consequences of their recent enmity could not be good.

One of the other foxes who'd witnessed their argument finally stepped forward. "Any problem?" he asked.

For a while, Mykola's expression shifted between various moods, from rage to irritation to sadness, before settling on a resigned bitterness.

"Just Wolfrum being Wolfrum."

"That could be bad. Here at Redwall, that could be very bad."

"Yes," Mykola agreed with a nod. "Yes, it could..."

0000000000000000000

The summer afternoon was clear and bright, but wherever Wolfrum went there might as well have been stormclouds as dark and ominous as the ones that had swept over Mossflower during their tedious march to Redwall.

Having parted ways with Mykola on the southern wall (had that swordfox REALLY drawn his blade on him?), Wolfrum stalked across the western lawns, still trembling from that confrontation. The last thing he'd need now would be to run into Cadogan again, and he fervently hoped to avoid that shrew. In his current state of mind, he'd most likely slay Cadogan on sight, no matter the consequences. And those consequences - specifically, the punishments Machus would impose upon him - were the only things now deterring Wolfrum from such actions; any motivation to make Mykola or Liam proud of him had completely vanished. In fact, he might be more inclined to do something foolish now just to spite the fox.

In recent days, when things had seemed to be going so well, Wolfrum had begun to accept that other creatures weren't always to blame for his misfortune, that he should shoulder responsibility for his mistakes and strive to correct them. But now, as he trod the Abbey lawns with heavy, bitter steps, that insight was erased from his mind. Right now, everybeast was to blame except himself.

Seeking out the most solitary spot he could find on the northern lawns, he happened upon four of his fellow rats who'd just come down from lookout duty on the battlements, taking their rest in the shade of a tree near the gardens, about halfway between the wall and the main Abbey. One named Speeg beckoned him over, and while Wolfrum wasn't in the most sociable of moods at the moment, the group seemed inviting enough that he might be able to tolerate them. This part of the Abbey grounds was sparsely populated since the Redwallers preferred the sunnier east and south lawns for their leisure; the only resident Wolfrum could see was a hedgehog lady busily closing the shutters and panes of the Abbey's windows with a long pole. Judging the vicinity secluded enough for his purposes, he walked over to take a seat among his comrades on the soft grass.

"Hey, matey, sorry t' hear 'bout what happened," Speeg said, genuine concern in his voice.

"Yeah, downright indecent o' Cadogan, goin' 'round spillin' yer beans like that," agreed Speeg's companion Gorsul.

While this sympathetic camaraderie was a welcome change from the scornful mockery Wolfrum had faced all day, the rat couldn't help but shoot his comrades an irate glance. "Well, I sure didn't see any o' you goin' out o' yer way t' teach that shrew a lesson when he started spreadin' the word around!"

Gorsul took umbrage at having their attempts at solidarity greeted with such a sour and accusatory retort. "'ey, calm down there, Wolfie! What were we s'posed t' do? You know we can't go 'round dishin' out beatings to our fellow soldiers, no matter how deservin'. The officers would have our hides fer it."

"Yeah, well, nobeast ever went after th' hides of th' brutes who beat me within an inch o' my life after th' battle with th' ravens," Wolfrum groused.

His fellow rats looked rather uncomfortable with the turn this conversation had taken; they'd sought only to hearten their aggrieved comrade, but Wolfrum seemed intent upon spreading his misery even to those seeking to console him. Without stopping to think about the old wounds it might open, Speeg tried to defend the officers for their lack of action in the case Wolfrum had mentioned.

"Well, that did involve that whole thing wi' Kefrin … "

"Cripes!" Wolfrum shouted, drawing a quick glance from the hedgehog before she returned her attention to her windowing duties. "You gonna bring that up again? I already told you, I ain't responsible fer that idiot's death!"

"'ey, have a care there," Gorsul countered. "Kefrin were a friend o' mine, so don't go 'round callin' him an idiot, 'specially after he saved yer tail from those birds…"

"He did not save me! I coulda taken Girsha an' that crow by myself. T'was just Kefrin's foolish blunder that he ran blunderin' inta a situation he couldn't handle."

The companionly mood of the original quartet had quickly soured, the four Northland rats beginning to regret that they'd invited Wolfrum into their midst. The situation wasn't helped when Kharp gave into the temptation to throw another jab Wolfrum's way.

"So… that night during th' storm… Is there really anything going on 'tween you an' Mykola, or…?"

Wolfrum nearly unsheathed his blade at these words, but relented at the last moment. He was close to exploding with fury, but still possessed enough presence of mind to realize what a spectacularly bad idea that was.

"Lissen, just… shut up, awright? You c'n talk about whatever you want, but don't ever mention that, or Kefrin, or Cadogan again. I can't take no more o' it, so don't tempt me inta doin' something I'll regret!"

The mood between the gathered rats was tense, hostile and unpleasant. Wolfrum's temper balanced on a hair-trigger, and the slightest incident could serve to push him over the edge at any moment.

It was thus precisely the wrong moment for Droge the young hedgehog to come obliviously rolling towards them.

0000000000000000000

"Banished?" Mykola repeated hollowly, a decidedly nervous air about the short-legged fox.

"Just for the night," Machus clarified, his manner firm and resolved. "And I'd say that's a very light punishment, considering his actions. To be honest, I don't think he should be allowed back inside this Abbey for the remainder of our stay here, but it would look strange if we had to keep one of our soldiers outside the walls all the time. Not to mention that it'll be easier to keep a close watch on him in here."

Mykola conferred with his captain outside the front door of the main Abbey building. It was just before dinner, and Mykola had been called down from his solitary patrolling atop the eastern and southern walls, where his conflicted feelings over the confrontation with Wolfrum had proved a constant distraction from his lookout duties. Now he stood at the steps leading up into Great Hall along with the Gawtrybe Lady and another fox named Andrus, having just been informed of the debacle Wolfrum had caused by threatening a hedgehog child with harm and nearly causing it to Balla, the Abbey's Cellar Keeper, when she tried to intervene. Only Machus' timely intervention had prevented the situation from escalating further, and now the rodent was to spend the night outside the Abbey unarmed as punishment.

Throughout Machus' account, the three creatures' gazes at Mykola - particularly Mina's - held unspoken accusations.

Once the Sword had finished describing the afternoon's events, Mykola could think of nothing to say. Bothered by his silence, Machus prompted, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Don't you have anything to say about the matter?"

Meeting the expectant stares of the others, Mykola decided to just be as forthright as he could.

"Yes. You think I'm partly to blame for what happened, don't you? That my 'soft' methods contributed to Wolfrum's behaviour. That I failed in my promise to keep him out of trouble and make sure he didn't step out of line in front of the Redwallers. Just like you said before we came here…"

"Not in so many words," Machus said, "but your assessment is mostly on the mark."

Before they could continue, Liam came jogging towards their gathering. Having heard what had happened with Wolfrum, the rat sergeant wanted to seek out Machus and add his own voice to the conferral. "Sir, if I may say a few things o' my own on the matter…"

Machus threw the rat a sharp glance. "Your presence was not requested, Sergeant. This is a private conversation between us and Mykola. It doesn't concern you."

Liam didn't back down. "Sir, I'm th' highest ranking rat at Redwall now, an' Wolfrum's my responsibility as much as it is Mykola's. I think I oughta be allowed t' say my piece on what happened."

The Sword didn't look happy about complicating this discussion with the addition of yet another voice, but nodded for Liam to continue. "Very well. Go on."

"Well, sir, you did hear the rumours about… what Mykola did t' Wolfrum that night a week ago, under that tree in th' storm?"

"Yes," Machus responded matter-of-factly. "As I understand it, that was a routine medical examination, nothing more. We foxes are trained in such procedures - as should be common knowledge throughout the ranks."

"Well, what's routine fer you may not be so routine fer us common beasts. From what I hear, it was the shrew Cadogan who snuck up on the two of 'em, overheard what was goin' on, and then went out o' his way this morn to spread the word around, solely t' embarrass Wolfrum. But he didn't stop there; once the rumors were flyin' all over th' place, he confronted Wolfrum about it, rubbing it in his face that he'd revealed his secret to everybeast, an' made all sorts of degrading insinuations about…"

Liam's words trailed off as he saw the cautionary stare Machus gave him.

"Sergeant, if you even begin to suggest that a mildly awkward personal examination in any way excuses Wolfrum's behaviour this day, I have to seriously question whether you are worthy of your rank."

Liam stammered, trying to explain himself. "No, I… That's not what I meant, I just…."

But Machus had already turned back to his short-legged subordinate, all but dismissing the rat as he waited to see if Mykola had anything further to say.

He did. "Sir, if I may be allowed to defend myself for moment…"

Machus nodded for him to continue.

"I confess that I did indeed fail to make sure Wolfrum didn't do anything foolish during his stay at Redwall, and not just in the way you might think. Earlier today, he came to me about the rumors Cadogan had started. He was hysterical and distressed and wanted somebeast to blame, and cast some flagrantly outrageous aspersions upon my character. I grew angry at this and threw back a few unkind words of my own, and I must've given him the impression that I no longer cared about him or how he behaved. That might very well have contributed to what he did later."

The two other foxes and Mina looked as if they agreed with this assessment. Liam just looked on uneasily from the side.

"But as for my past approach having been a catalyst for today's events," Mykola continued, "well, may I be so presumptuous as to ask what you would have done in my stead? What methods would you have used to make sure that he didn't behave like he did, once his secret got out like it did today?"

His companions didn't seem to appreciate Mykola's challenging tone, but Mina deigned to answer him nonetheless, taking over from Machus.

"We could have handled him," she stated simply. "We would have given Cermak greater liberty to punish him as he saw fit, and we would have made it more clear to Wolfrum just what reprimands he could expect if he did something as stupid as this. And we wouldn't have allowed him the luxury of such close camaraderie with his superiors, perhaps leading him to believe he'd be held less accountable if he had the protection of some of the higher-ups." She gave a disapproving nod to Liam as well as Mykola.

Mykola remained unswayed by her words. "With all due respect, My Lady, do you really think that would have improved matters any? Because in Wolfrum's case, I think it would only have made them a lot worse."

"Then perhaps he should have been removed from this army long before today. You are undermining your own argument."

Mykolya refused to concede. "Think for a moment about Wolfrum's behavior these past several days, ever since my heart-to-heart with him under the spruce the first night of the storm. Hasn't he been conducting himself quite well since then, all things considered? When Wolfrum felt happy, content and knew that he had somebeast on his side, he strove to better himself, and he succeeded better than I could've hoped for.

"It was only when Cadogan went out of his way to reveal a personal matter that Wolfrum understandably wanted kept private that his resolve faltered. If Cadogan hadn't done that, this might never have happened. How would any of you feel about having such a confidentiality breached by a third party?"

The gathering was silent for awhile, considering Mykola's points. Finally, Machus spoke.

"Mykola, you may be correct that your way of taking care of Wolfrum worked well in this instance. He did indeed behave civilized compared to how he'd been before - and how he behaved this afternoon. Perhaps we have been unfair in judging your methods so harshly, since we probably wouldn't have been able to handle the situation any better. We certainly were in no position to devote the time and energy to his cause that you have.

"But that doesn't change the fact that he was anything but civilized today. He threatened one of the children of Redwall and came close to drawing the blood of their Cellar Keeper. If I hadn't happened upon the scene when I did, who knows what would've happened? Fortunately, Balla has been able to put the incident behind her and won't pursue the matter, but do you have any idea how close Wolfrum came to ruining our relationship with the Redwallers completely? We would've been lucky if they allowed us to remain inside their walls any longer.

"And as for what happened between him and Cadogan, no matter how painful Wolfrum found the shrew's words, it in no way justifies or excuses what he did. We all hear distressing news or get insulted once in a while, and he's hardly the first soldier in this army to have uncomplimentary rumors spread about him, but we don't go around threatening other beasts with harm over it, least of all the ones who've invited us into their home and had no part whatsoever in these internal conflicts. Wolfrum's thin-skinned sensitivity is as much to blame for his attitude in this matter as anything anybeast said about him or accused him of. Remember, these unsavory rumors apply to you as well, but I don't see you raging around demanding Cadogan's head. That's because you know what's silly and trivial in the overall scheme of army morale, and apparently Wolfrum doesn't. He did a terrible thing, he has full responsibility for it and he deserves to be punished for it."

"With all due respect, sir, I can afford to ignore salacious rumors about myself, owing to my position. I've got authority Wolfrum doesn't. The lower ranks rub shoulders on the march and in battle, and what they say and think about each other counts a lot more between them than it does between them and us. Cadogan betrayed me by listening in on my examination and spreading these rumors - but he betrayed Wolfrum a lot more, because Wolfrum has far more to lose. That shrew should face discipline over this."

"Your point has merit. I will have a word with Cadogan, and make sure he realizes he's never to do anything like this again. But I still place the badger's share of the blame for Wolfrum's behavior with Wolfrum. His actions today, regardless of their cause, are inexcusable and cannot be undone, and for that, he must also accept the badger's share of the punishment. I am sure you can understand this."

Mollified by his superior's grudging agreement to take Cadogan to task for the shrew's part in all of this, Mykola nodded, accepting that Machus was probably right - or at least half-right - about Wolfrum as well. Even the short-pawed fox understood that sometimes his gentle methods weren't the best approach, that if a soldier had made such a monumental mistake like this, then that soldier and nobeast else would have to face the consequences for it. Besides, in his current state, the rat would be most likely be unwilling to have anything to do with his protector.

And to be completely honest with himself, Mykola wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with Wolfrum either. He was still angry with the rat over the things Wolfrum had said to him up on the battlements, and the sheer frustration of having the his charge return to his old vicious self had drained the fox's will to try and patch things up with the troublesome rodent right now.

Looking at his superior, Mykola asked in a resigned voice, "So what do you intend to do now?"

"For the remainder of our stay here," Machus said, "you will leave all matters regarding Wolfrum to me. He is no longer your responsibility. I will use traditional discipline to keep him in line. He's already jeopardized the trust our hosts have in us; our main priority now above all else is to make sure he doesn't do so again. He will be closely watched by my swordfoxes and not allowed the same liberties he's been enjoying with you. Are we clear on that?"

"Perfectly, sir," Mykola muttered.

"After that… I don't know what we'll do with him. He's shown today that he will relapse into bad behaviour the moment circumstances turn against him, even if he's been considerably improving before that. I've said before that I don't hold much hope of that rat permanently bettering himself, and that is doubly true now. I think the best we can hope for is that he'll be able to keep the worst of his resentment over this incident in check once we start travelling again, and that he'll die a sufficiently heroic death on a battlefield in the near future."

Mykola did his best to mask his resentment of the Sword's pessimistic attitude. What troubled him the most was that no matter how much he tried not to, he was beginning to share some of that attitude.

Shaking his head and sighing, Machus continued, "I still don't understand why Urthblood picked him to stay behind at Redwall in the first place. He knew about Wolfrum's character and predispositions, so why he thought it would be a good idea to have that rat dwell amongst these peaceful woodlanders is beyond me…"

Mina gave him a mirthless smirk. "Lord Urthblood makes those decisions, Captain, not you or I. Or do you doubt his… vision?"

Machus gave her a sour look. "Don't start." He turned back to Mykola. "As for you, I'm not about to issue any reprimand just yet, since I think you argued your case quite well that your methods actually did keep him on the straight and narrow for long enough. Maybe we couldn't have succeeded any better, and maybe we could have; I'm not Urthblood so I can't know. For the moment, just let me handle things my way, and we'll see what happens."

"Yes, sir," the short-legged fox reluctantly nodded.

"Now," the swordfox captain added, "I deem that spending just a night outside is much too light a punishment considering what Wolfrum has done. Tomorrow when we bring him back in, there'll be drilling on the Abbey grounds and I think Wolfrum should be given his very own spot in it to face off against several opponents… and I'll make it clear to them that they won't have to go easy on the rat."

Liam, who'd held his silence during most of this discussion, couldn't help but voice his concerns over this. "Sir, doesn't that kinda border on… abuse?"

Machus hesitated for a moment as if deliberating whether he was even going to acknowledge the rat's question. "Wolfrum gets to sleep through the night while his fellow rats stand sentry duty on the walltop," he replied at last. "I only think it's right and proper that he should compensate by practicing his quarterstaff and paw-to-paw skills while his comrades rest after their watch."

Signalling that this impromptu council was concluded, the swordfox captain turned and climbed the steps into the Abbey. Andrus and Mina followed, leaving the rat and Mykola behind.

Having found the entire conversation highly unpleasant, Liam looked to his friend with a face full of concern. "Mikky, are y' sure this's really fer th' best? I mean, treatin' Wolfrum like this right now after what he's been through…"

But Mykola dismissed him with a wave of his paw. "Liam, I don't have the strength to talk about this right now. Wolfrum deserves a punishment; Machus was right about that. And I don't know if I'll be able to approach that rat any more, at least not for some time. Please, just… just let me be alone for awhile…"

And with that, the mentally exhausted fox limped up the steps after the others, leaving the rat sergeant alone in front of the entrance to Redwall Abbey. Liam had lost his appetite and wasn't keen on rejoining Machus and his company, so he just stood there reflecting upon the day's events. And in spite of everything that had just been said, as much as he inwardly agreed that Wolfrum had committed a serious transgression and had to face the consequences of his actions, Liam felt a bitter hatred for Cadogan growing inside him, for he was convinced that if it hadn't been for that shrew, Wolfrum could've completed his path to redemption…


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

_Another chapter, another piece written by my amateurish pen (well, keyboard) and improved immeasurably by the editing magic of Highwing. _

_Thanks again for all the kind comments. I hope you'll like this chapter. Next time will be the final chapter of this Wolfrum fic. _

_Once again: Highwing – The Crimson Badger – Spoilers. _

"Why on earth did you do that?" Liam demanded of Cadogan, the normally gentle rat struggling to hold his temper in check.

"That nastysnout was strolling 'round with his nose in th' air, actin' like he owned the place," Cadogan retorted, refusing to be intimidated by the rat sergeant's accusatory tone. However, Liam had chosen to confront the shrew at a time and place where Cadogan was on his own, and without any of his companions to back him up, his bravado was showing definite cracks. "After what he did t' Kefrin, he didn't deserve t' enjoy 'imself th' way he was. I only gave 'im what was right and proper."

"That wasn't yer decision to make! We'd put that whole thing behind us an' moved on. You had no business throwing it in his face again!"

It was early afternoon of the day following Wolfrum's banishment from Redwall. The rat had recently been allowed inside again, under strict admonition that he cause no more trouble. True to his word, however, Machus had decided that spending a single night locked outside the Abbey walls constituted insufficient penance for Wolfrum's wretched behavior, and so, while most of his fellow rats rested in the dormitories or out on the lawns, Wolfrum was ordered to partake in quarterstaff practice among the weasels, ferrets and stoats on the southern lawns.

Despite the fox commander's promise of the previous day, Machus had done little more than exchange a few curt words with Cadogan, and while a few words from Machus could count as a few thousand words from a beast with less commanding authority, Liam still wasn't satisfied that the shrew had been properly reprimanded. Thus, Liam sought out the shrew himself to demand an explanation for Cadogan's actions, and further impress upon the tiny bully that such conduct would not be tolerated by him any more than by Machus.

The rat sergeant found Cadogan atop the battlements, ostensibly to stand lookout duty but coincidentally enjoying the spectacle of Wolfrum getting pummelled by the burlier weasels and ferrets during their mismatched quarterstaff bouts.

"Yah, well, that's easy fer you to say," Cadogan replied. "You ain't th' one who got slain by that crow after Wolfrum – "

"Drop the act, Cadogan. We both know you did what you did out of pure spite. You've had it in fer Wolfrum from the moment you two first met."

"Bah! Anybeast who met him woulda had it in fer 'im," the shrew snorted. "I dunno why you or Mikky even bother with him."

"Everything was goin' fine with him 'til you butted in an' ruined it all! He was startin' to act decent an' sociable when you went an' antagonized him. If not for you, yesterday's events probably never would've happened!"

Cadogan looked shocked and offended, and this time there was nothing feigned about his manner. "Are you blamin' _me_ fer what happened?"

"I certainly hold you largely responsible," Liam growled. "I know Machus already set you straight on th' matter, but in case his words failed to make a proper impression on yer thick skull, let me lay it out fer you again. Of course you share a great deal o' th' blame. Mikky knows it, I know it, and we've made sure Machus knows it too. You insulted an' offended Wolfrum enuff t' make him revert to his bad old habits, destroyin' all the progress we'd made with him over this past week. That put him in such a state that he forgot his place an' did what he did yesterday."

The shrew turned angry. "Then mebbe I gotta get it through YER thick skull where things stand, Sergeant Rat. Machus made it plain he still thinks Wolfrum's the bad apple in alla this, an' if you don't berlieve me, ask yerself why I'm standin' my scheduled lookout shift while Wolfie's down there gettin' the stuffing knocked outta him. That fox told me t' keep t' meself over this from now on, but that was it. So if you really think I'm responsible fer that rogue's behaviour when even our chief brushtail let me off lightly, ye're an even bigger idiot than I thought. I don't hafta stand here 'n' listen to this kinda drivel from a bleedin'-heart skintail like you. Get lost!"

And with that, Cadogan pointedly stomped off, leaving Liam bristling with fury. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the sergeant looked down towards the lawns. It seemed Machus had decided the troops - and Wolfrum - had had enough of quarterstaff practice and now had them engaged in paw-to-paw combat exercises. Wolfrum was teamed up with a weasel named Smallert, a champion wrestler in Urthblood's army who was sure to give the rat a pummelling he'd remember for the rest of his life.

Seeing the weasel flash his unfortunate sparring partner a wicked grin before joyfully launching into him, Liam sighed and stalked off along the walltop, making sure to head in the opposite direction from Cadogan. Today life truly seemed to be taking a turn for the worse.

He didn't realize, however, just how bad things were about to get…

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Along another section of the walltop, Mykola was taking his own stroll along the ramparts. He too had volunteered for lookout duty, not so much out of any sense of soldierly responsibility as for the relative solitude this would afford him. His heart felt heavy and bitter, and he was not in the mood to share his troubles with anybeast.

It was amazing how quickly things could change. At this hour yesterday, everything had seemed to be going so well. He'd been enjoying the comforts of Redwall Abbey, Wolfrum had been doing splendidly and Mykola had the respect and appreciation of Machus and his fellow swordfoxes.

And now, everything had gone to Hellgates. He'd forced down a light breakfast out of military habit, in spite of lacking any real appetite. Wolfrum had reverted to his bad old self and was presently busy getting punished in the preferred manner of his less sympathetic superiors. And while Machus had yet to issue any official reprimand to Mykola over his failure to keep the rat in line, the short-legged fox wished that he could switch places with his erstwhile charge. He would've preferred a good beating to the way he felt now.

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Down on the lawns, Wolfrum got the wind beaten out of him twice in rapid succession by Smallert - first with a swift punch to the gut and then with a savage spill to the ground. Smallert may have lived up to his name, being less than half a head taller than Wolfrum, but the rat was no match for the weasel in paw-to-paw sparring or wrestling, turning what should have been a fairly even match into a decidedly one-sided contest. Wolfrum, already exhausted from his fitful night's sleep and the grueling quarterstaff practice, could do little to defend himself from his sparring partner's merciless pounding.

And merciless it was. Cadogan was hardly the only soldierbeast who still bore resentment towards the rat, and Machus had given them leeway to pummel away at him to their heart's content, as long as they didn't cause any serious injuries. The swordfox chief also made certain that everybeast knew exactly what Wolfrum had nearly done to Droge and Balla, and what the consequences of such an infraction would have been, just in case anybeast might harbor misgivings about heaping so much abuse on him. As it was, nobeast hesitated to dish out as much punishment as they felt Wolfrum could safely tolerate, and before long the rat had accumulated so many bruises and bumps that he almost felt like it was the beating he'd taken for Kefrin's death all over again.

Finding himself slammed to the ground again, Wolfrum lay upon the grass, struggling to recover the wind that had been driven from him. Glancing up to the walltop, he spotted a familiar face looking back at him. Mykola watched the scene below with a forlorn expression, as the rat he'd tried so hard to help lay at the mercy of the brutal treatment Machus deemed he deserved. Swallowing his pride, Wolfrum threw a pleading look toward his former friend, hoping that the fox could do something about his situation. But Mykola only turned away to continue his tour of the ramparts.

Wolfrum was alone. He knew that now. And this realization drove him further into rage and despair.

"C'mon, Wolfie!" Smallert taunted him. "You can't call on yer foxy sweetheart t' save you now. Lessee if you c'n handle yerself 'gainst a proper soldierbeast as well as y' can 'gainst a 'hogchild."

And with that, Smallert grabbed hold of the rat to engage him in another round of pummelling.

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It was shortly after that, as Mykola approached the northern section of the walltop, that the distant shouts and screams reached his ears… and the fox felt a preternatural tingle of terror work its way up his spine.

He raced down the wallsteps and across the eastern lawns, past the orchard and Abbey pond toward the southern grounds and the heart of the commotion. His limp barely slowed him, the minor hitch to his step all but forgotten now that he'd slipped into crisis mode. Feeling sweat gathering on his brow, the fox silently prayed that this disturbance didn't involve the one creature most likely to be at the center of such a ruckus. But when he rounded the corner of the main Abbey building to gaze upon its southern lawn, he saw that his prayers had gone unanswered.

"Oh, Cyrus, don't die! Please don't die!"

His gaze fastened upon the scene as he briskly strode toward it, Mykola saw Machus kneeling alongside an adolescent mousechild whose green Redwall habit had been ripped open to reveal a horrifying gash across his stomach and a spreading stain of red on fur and fabric. Across from the stricken youth knelt his older brother, whom Mykola recognized as the novice mouse who'd tried to run away with the army when they left for Salamandastron. The elder sibling clutched his brother's limp paw in his own, as if trying to will some of his own life and energy into the fallen mouse while tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Oh no!" another nearby Redwaller cried out. "That wicked beast has slain Cyrus!"

Near this tragic tableaux, Wolfrum's sparring opponent Smallert had sunk to his knees while burying his face in his paws. Alongside him on the ground lay a dropped sword, its blade showing faint traces of crimson at its tip. Adding to the incongruity of the scene, Smallert's left ear had been severed cleanly at the scalp, but the weasel seemed too consumed by remorse and shame to care about the pain or the blood trickling down the side of his face.

Glancing about, Mykola also noticed some of the troops gathering around a fallen rat. Speeg lay upon the grass, a deep gash having severed his neck almost halfway through and his eyes glazed over with death, staring sightlessly at the blue summer sky.

Despite the abundant horror of the scene, Mykola couldn't help but heave an inward sigh of relief that his former protégé didn't seem to be involved in any of it. But that relief quickly evaporated as he saw the form of Wolfrum a few paces behind Machus and the two mice, lying stunned upon the ground. Two foxes stood watch over him - the only way Mykola knew Wolfrum must still be alive - and the expressions on their faces indicated that they regarded the rat as a definite perpetrator in this incident, whatever it had been.

Mykola couldn't make heads or tails of the confusing display. Turning to a nearby fox called Korix, he anxiously inquired, "What… what just happened?"

"Your little friend over there," Korix replied coolly, pointing to Wolfrum, "found his pummelling by Smallert a bit too much to take. The tussle got a lot more serious, and somehow he managed to get his paws on a blade and cut off the weasel's ear. Smallert turned mad with rage, grabbed up a sword of his own and chased him, screaming for blood. It all happened so fast, we're still trying to get it all worked out, but it's pretty clear Wolfrum pushed poor Speeg in front of him to save his own hide, and then did the same to that mousechild…"

"Oh no… No, he couldn't…" Mykola whispered under his breath. The tingling fear he'd started to feel upon first hearing the faint screams from the walltop now blossomed out from his spine to all parts of his body and soul. He simply couldn't fathom that something like this could have happened. When he'd worried about whether Wolfrum might cause any trouble at Redwall, he never would have imagined anything this terrible.

Moments later - moments that stretched on like an eternity to the beasts gathered at the scene - Machus declared that Cyrus might survive his devastating wounds if given proper treatment right away. Ordering his foxes to keep a close watch on the two perpetrators until he could give them his proper attention, he and Redwall's otter Skipper Montybank lifted the young mouse and bore him up to the Abbey's infirmary, the mouse brother Cyril insisting on following them, the remaining soldiers left to deal with the situation on their own as best they could.

A group of foxes took it upon themselves to pick up Speeg's body and carry it through the southern wallgate for a proper warrior's burial in the woods beyond the meadow. Normally Mykola would have followed them, but he felt that he had to stay behind in the Abbey and watch how things played out there. It was his charge who'd caused this disaster, and it was his duty to remain and see how Wolfrum behaved once he came to.

Wolfrum regained consciousness not long after that, groaning and clutching his head as he struggled to his knees and looked blearily about him. Seeing angry and hateful faces ringing him in on all sides - fellow soldiers and Redwallers both - recollection of the afternoon's events flooded back to him, and he tried to scramble away in a panic. He didn't make it one step before the two foxes standing watch over him grabbed him by his paws and pinned them behind his back, forcing him to his knees.

"Oh no, you cowardly wretch!" one of the foxes snarled to him. "You're staying right here to face up to what you've done!"

Struggling within their grip, the rat desperately searched out the creatures around him, finally locking gazes with the fox who'd been his guardian and protector ever since Wolfrum had first joined up with Urthblood's forces. Casting pride and dignity to the wind as he fully realized what fate awaited him at the paws of Machus, he called out to Mykola, pleading pathetically, "Mikky, please help me! Ye're my only friend! You know what they'll do t' me if y' don't – "

One of his captor foxes dealt him a hard smack across the muzzle. "Shut up! You're not getting away with it this time, scum!"

Wolfrum's pleas directed everybeast's gaze toward the short-pawed swordfox ... and those gazes were predominantly accusatory, either because his fellow soldiers held Mykola's coddling of the rat to have contributed to this tragedy, or merely because they thought it disgraceful that he'd ever felt compassion for such a creature. The only beasts not regarding him with contempt were Liam, whose countenance displayed mournful understanding, and Smallert, who knelt unresisting in the foxes' grasp, too absorbed in anguish over his own actions to judge anybeast else.

They waited out on the lawns for over an hour while Machus laboured to save Cyrus up in Redwall's infirmary, the most agonizing hour of his life that Mykola could remember. Aside from a few scattered mutterings and harsh words given to the weasel and rat kneeling in the grass, everybeast remained remarkably silent. There was simply nothing to say at a time like this… and considering how on edge the swordfoxes were, it might not be wise to raise one's voice unnecessarily. Even Wolfrum stopped fidgeting and protesting once he realized it would only get him further slaps from his guardians.

Finally Machus strode out from the redbricked Abbey, ordering the score of vermin to form up in a neat line while requesting that the remaining Redwallers leave the scene; this was a matter between him and his troops… and Mykola strongly suspected his Sword intended to dole out some on-the-spot discipline to his soldiers that would shock any nearby Abbeybeasts.

"Speed is dead."

With that simple statement of fact, and without a word about how things had gone with Cyrus up in the infirmary, another agonizing timespan began for the assembled Northlanders.

Machus started off by holding up the sword used to commit the recent atrocity, and asked to whom it belonged to. Gorsul, a friend of Speeg who'd been lying close to him half asleep when Wolfrum grabbed his blade, admitted that it was his. While allowing one's weapon to be stolen and used for evil usually merited a harsh punishment in Lord Urthblood's forces, Machus decided to let it slide this once, as he had more grievous behaviour to address.

Next he turned to Smallert, who stood in line with his fellow soldiers, his guards having released him upon realizing the conscience-stricken weasel showed no desire whatsoever to escape or resist anything the Sword wished done with him. As Machus interrogated him, Smallert's words and tone clearly conveyed such remorse that everybeast looking on knew he'd sincerely give his life in a heartbeat if it could undo the things he'd done. Mykola's heart went out to him; while he hadn't known Smallert well before today, he recognized the weasel's behaviour as that of a goodhearted beast who'd committed a terrible crime in the heat of rage and was devastated by it. He truly wished that Machus would be merciful to Smallert, but mercy appeared to be the last thing on his commander's mind at the moment.

After his grilling of Smallert, during which he revealed that desperate surgery was the only thing that still had Cyrus clinging to life, Machus stalked over to Wolfrum. The rat fidgeted nervously in the grip of his captors, the Sword's grim stare turning his heart icy cold. Mykola fervently hoped that even after everything that had happened, Wolfrum would still remember some of his lessons from that night under the spruce and the days following it, still retain some of the spirit that had helped him to reflect over his actions and behave decently (if only for a little while), and be able to see just how terrible his actions this day truly were.

As Wolfrum and Machus began their exchange, however, it quickly became obvious that wasn't the case. The whole thing had been Smallert's fault, the rat had just tried to defend himself, the weasel was a brute who enjoyed beating on his fellow soldiers and had no place in a proper army… It was all the usual excuses, lies and refusal to accept responsibility that had made Wolfrum so unpopular among his fellows in the first place. Except that this time it wasn't some dispute over loot gathered from fallen enemies, a response to a perceived insult, or even the aftermath of having abandoned a comrade to the crows after being forced to choose between him and an enemy commander. This time, Wolfrum had severed Smallert's ear, thrust a comrade into the path of a swinging sword with lethal results, and finally grabbed a child of the Redwall order to use as a shield against his pursuer… and yet he seemed utterly incapable of accepting any great share of the blame for himself.

The most intense moment came when Wolfrum made the audacious claim that Machus of all beasts was responsible for the tragedy, after hearing that the fox had ordered Smallert to give him a thorough beating during their wrestling match. With a snarl of terrible fury, Machus turned the sword down and drove it through the rat's unprotected footpaw, eliciting a howl of pain from Wolfrum. The Sword dealt him a hard slap across the face to silence him. Liam seemed on the verge of running forth to protest this maiming, but another swordfox restrained him with a firm paw on the rat sergeant's shoulder.

"Don't you dare…" the fox growled under his breath, convincing Liam to hold his silence and not intercede.

Mykola had all he could do to maintain his professional demeanor and not avert his eyes from the unfolding scene; such a display on his part would have been considered a most unseemly lapse of decorum under the circumstances. As it was, it took his full measure of self-control to hold back the tears starting to gather underneath his eyelids…

Once Machus was finished with Wolfrum, he ordered every rat, stoat, weasel and ferret of their company - including Wolfrum - banished from the Abbey. They would all sleep, eat and drill outside its walls from now on; only Smallert would remain inside to receive a different manner of punishment. The vermin were escorted outside by the swordfoxes, their mood one of collective disgust and hatred toward Wolfrum, both for his actions that day and for denying them the hospitality of Redwall. As Liam passed through the south wallgate, he threw one last worried glance back at Mykola, and then they were all gone, the foxes locking the gates behind them.

Mykola was left by himself on the Abbey lawns, feeling too emotionally drained to assist in getting the troops outside, or to do anything else for that matter. Tolar paced over to Machus and exchanged some hushed words with the Sword, and the short-legged fox could guess what they were about. Afterwards, Machus strode towards the trembling weasel, paw ominously upon his sword hilt, and ordered Smallert to come with him. Obediently, the weasel rose to do as bidden, and started to follow the senior fox into Redwall Abbey. Halfway to the redbricked building, however, Machus paused as if remembering something and gestured Mykola over to him. Mykola complied, limping nervously towards his commander to hear what Machus had to say.

"Mykola, please meet with me under the copse of trees near the Abbey gardens just after full dark. We have something… very important to discuss."

And with those matter-of-fact words, Machus nodded for Smallert to continue with him into the Abbey proper. Mykola understood just what they would be discussing that night. And he dreaded it with every fibre of his being…

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As the long summer evening yielded at last to full night and the moon rose into the black-velvet, star-pricked sky, Mykola made his way across the lawns with heavy steps and a heavier heart. He found Machus waiting for him in the copse on the north Abbey grounds, and the Sword was not alone. A group of six foxes, including the two sub-commanders Tolar and Andrus, stood with him. Also present was Lady Mina, who'd returned that afternoon from her Forest Patrol excursion with Alexander only to learn of the dire events which had occurred in their absence.

Stepping into their circle under the small chestnut tree, Mykola could see that the assembled beasts regarded him as an outsider, that his presence had not been requested in order for him to give his views or be consulted on any aspect of the matter at paw. A distinct air of finality hung over the assemblage, and it made the fox nervous.

"Thank you for coming, Mykola," Machus began. "We waited to proceed until you arrived, since I think this will affect you more than anybeast else."

Those words only added to Mykola's discomfort.

Machus turned to address everybeast present. "As you all know, a few hours ago two of our soldiers betrayed the hospitality of our hosts and violated several of our own basic rules of conduct with unthinkable acts of violence. As a result of their actions, one of our rats lies dead and a young Abbey mouse lies grievously wounded. I've just been up to the Infirmary to check on him, and fortunately he seems to be out of immediate danger. His chances of recovery look quite good now. But that doesn't alter the fact that he was almost slain by Smallert, a soldier under my command, or put in the path of the weasel's sword by Wolfrum, another beast for whom I am responsible." When he saw some of the gathered foxes throw accusing glances at Mykola, he added, "I am the senior officer here, the one Lord Urthblood saw fit to leave in charge of our forces at Redwall, so what happened today falls upon me. Don't be so quick to cast your gazes elsewhere. I had assumed responsibility for Wolfrum since his earlier transgression with the hedgehog family, to discipline him in the manner I saw fit, so if my approach may have contributed to today's violence ... well, it doesn't matter anyway, because it's still on me, regardless of the root cause. My soldiers, my responsibility.

"So now blood has been spilled within this sanctuary of peace, whose creatures invited us in in good faith, giving us their trust in spite of their suspicions over our species. Well, today that trust was torn up, spat upon, and trampled underpaw. I have expelled the vermin in our detachment from the Abbey so they will not darken these fair grounds anymore than they already have. But that won't begin to clear away the evil memories of what happened from the minds of these good folk. To make sure something like this doesn't happen again, we have to take care of the two beasts responsible for this… permanently."

Mykola gulped. He'd strongly suspected this was what Machus had summoned him to this gathering to hear, but that didn't make the verdict any easier to stomach.

"I have placed Smallert in the same cell as the hare Hanchett," the Sword went on, referring to the stranger claiming to be a member of the Long Patrol who'd tried to assassinate Urthblood, precipitating the Badger Lord's sudden departure for Salamandastron. The badger warrior had urged the Abbess to detain Hanchett at Redwall for ten days after the army's withdrawal to keep the hostile intruder from causing trouble. "Whether he survives this night will be up to the hare. If he does, I will have to schedule his execution for a later time, and it will happen outside the walls of Redwall, since it's not the custom of these peaceful folk to have anybeast put to death inside their home."

Normally, Mykola might have protested his Sword's determination to execute Smallert when the weasel had demonstrated such obvious remorse over his actions, or the decision to confine Smallert with a vermin-hating Long Patrol when Machus knew Hanchett might very well kill him. But right now, Mykola's focus lay elsewhere. If the hare was destined to kill Smallert, he would have done so by now, so it was better to concentrate on what could still be affected…

Machus at last broached the issue for which he'd summoned Mykola to this meeting. "As for the other culprit in this mess, he is already outside the walls… and I don't intend to leave the matter of whether he survives this night to anybeast but us. His comrades may have already dispatched him themselves, in which case I will consider the matter closed and not pursue it further. But if he still lives, it's time to end his violent, troublesome ways once and for all…"

He turned to Mykola, along with the rest of the gathered beasts.

"Mykola, an hour after midnight Tolar will discreetly exit the Abbey, proceed quietly to the forest's edge where the soldiers are resting, and slay Wolfrum."

The gathering fell completely silent, the stillness broken only by the sound of crickets. Everybeast looked to Mykola, awaiting his reaction to his captain's declaration.

After awhile he answered softly, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice, "Yes… I can understand that you'd want to do that, sir…"

"Well, what are your thoughts on the matter?"

Mykola returned the fox captain's gaze with perhaps a bit more defiance than was appropriate for the situation. "I think you know my thoughts on the matter, Machus…"

"I can guess them, Mykola, but I want to hear them in your own words."

Fidgeting, struggling to find the best words to express his views precisely, Mykola gazed at the ground and took a deep breath. "Sir… I… I know Wolfrum did a terrible, terrible thing today; the worst he's ever done by far. I know he failed to show any remorse or contrition over it, unlike Smallert. And… I know both he and I have failed you… He's destroyed the bond we've tried to forge with the Redwallers, caused Speeg's death and nearly did the same to that poor young mouse... And it's because I failed in my duty, failed to turn him into a proper goodbeast as I swore I would, and it's cost us all so much. I understand the gravity of this situation, Machus, I truly do…"

He then looked up towards his captain with pleading eyes, which despite his best efforts were slightly moist.

"But I beseech you, Machus… Is execution really the only option left to us? Is there not some other way? Can't we have him expelled from the army, tell him to never set his paws near us or Redwall again?"

The faces around him ranged from contemptuous, especially in Mina's case, to sympathetic. Machus' expression remained inscrutable, a rigid mask of military professionalism.

"No, Mykola. There is no other way. What Wolfrum did this day is unforgivable; it cannot be punished with mere exile. That rat has proven once and for all that he's a danger to everybeast around him. If we let him live, that would only put other innocent beasts at risk - if not here, then elsewhere, and if not this season, then perhaps the next. He has forever placed himself beyond the circle of decent, civilized creatures, and the only fitting response is to remove him from society permanently. This is my decision, and it is final."

Mykol kept his gaze defiantly locked with Machus's, inwardly despairing at the unequivocal verdict even as he accepted that the Sword's reasoning was largely valid. But despite all that had happened, despite the heated words he and Wolfrum had exchanged on the walltop the day before and despite the terrible deeds and lack of remorse, he couldn't bring himself to abandon the rat, not without doing his utmost to protect him one final time. He had to try to persuade his superiors to consider some other course of action.

"But it… He doesn't have to be that way! You've seen the creature he can be, the creature he's been for most of this past week. It was all going so well, until that little… until Cadogan went and provoked him like that! If that shrew hadn't done that –"

"That matter has been addressed," Machus cut him off. "Between us, and between me and Cadogan. A bully's taunt is no excuse for what Wolfrum nearly did to Droge and Balla, and it's even less so for what he did today!"

"I know that - that's not my point! It's just… you talk about him as if he's beyond help when he isn't! He can be a better creature under the right circumstances, he –"

"The right circumstances? This is an army, Mykola, not a village jamboree! Nobeast among us has the luxury of withholding our decency until everything is going our way and we're not experiencing any real hardships. What we see from Wolfrum most of the time is what he truly is: selfish, vicious, irresponsible and remorseless. Do you honestly think that kind of creature has any place among goodbeasts? And even if we ignore that, simply discharging him would let him off scot-free with what he's done here. Lord Urthblood's laws state that any soldier who commits an evil act will receive punishment for it, no matter how remorseful they are or how good their conduct has been otherwise! Smallert acted a lot nobler once he understood what he'd done, and he'll still have to face the ultimate judgment."

Mykola's composure started to falter. He understood the logic in what Machus was saying, understood that all the customs and procedures the army had established over the seasons dictated that Wolfrum, and Smallert, deserved death for what they had done.

But at the moment his personal feelings on this matter outweighed his sense of discipline or decorum. "Machus… Smallert did indeed behave the better of the two, and I respect his courage in taking full responsibility for his actions, something Wolfrum didn't. We can discuss what to do about him later; I have my own views on that score.

But… I have known Wolfrum for nearly eight seasons, ever since he joined us. I'm probably the closest thing he's ever had to a friend… and I can honestly say I regard him as a friend too, despite his many flaws. I know how you all regard him, and after today you're doubly justified in your views, but I have never been able to truly see him as you do. I have been with him through good and bad times, I have stood by his side throughout his tribulations. I have been through many arguments and rough spots with him, but I've also shared friendly and even pleasant moments with him. And… it's so difficult for me to accept this judgment, to just stand aside and let him be killed…"

Mina spoke up for the first time since Mykola had entered their gathering. "Mykola, do you remember that searat galleon we ambushed last autumn?"

Mykola and his fellow foxes were caught somewhat off guard by this seeming non sequitur. "Uh, of course," he said, "but what does that have to do with-?"

"You remember how we boarded her as she made her way down the river to the sea, killed half her crew and captured the rest? How we then discovered she was a slaveship, carrying a large load of captured woodlanders in her cargo hold and at her oars? And how Urthblood decided that the remaining rats had to die for their crimes once we saw how those slaves had been treated?"

"Well, of course, Mina. But I still don't –"

"When those rats were led away to be killed, I caught a glimpse of your eyes. You felt sorry for them, didn't you? You felt sympathetic toward their plight and sadness that they were about to be executed. I suspect you might even have tried to plead with Urthblood for clemency for them, if it had come to that. Because you are a kind and caring creature, it hurt you to see nearly a score of helpless beasts marched off to meet their doom."

Her expression turned cold.

"But what of their slaves? What about all the poor creatures we freed who'd been whipped, beaten, starved, raped and separated from their families and loved ones? You didn't feel any sympathy toward them, did you? You were almost shedding tears for their captors, but not for them!"

An awkward silence, almost deathly, fell over the assembly. Mykola could only stare in shock at Mina, stunned by the Gawtrybe Lady's accusation. Finally, he managed to stammer, "How… how can you say that? You know that's not true! Of course I cared! I was there comforting them, feeding and clothing them. I helped them find new homes! I took care of them as well as any of you!"

"Because it was your duty," Mina responded. "Perhaps I am being too harsh. Perhaps you genuinely did care about them and felt sorry for them, like the rest of us. But between them and the searats, I could see which group's fate concerned you more…"

The discomfort hanging over their group deepened at this, but before anybeast could ask what she was getting to, Mina continued.

"In all the time I've known you, Mykola, you've demonstrated an inordinate affection for the criminals, villains and, if you'll pardon the phrase, vermin we come across in our travels. You always treat them with care and fondness, to the detriment of all the goodbeasts who are in need of aid."

"Mina, just because I can emphasize with such beasts and want to help them doesn't mean I care any less about the good and innocent!"

"Doesn't it? Every moment you've spent coddling Wolfrum is a moment you could have spent on a promising, well-behaved soldier instead. Every tear you shed for dead searats or slavers could have been shed for their unfortunate victims. And all the pity you lavish on evil creatures could have been better directed toward good ones.

Mykola, your compassion and goodheartedness is to be lauded, as is your tendency and willingness to give so much of yourself to others - but you are giving it to the wrong creatures. Such misplaced sympathy almost strikes me as immoral and despicable, and perhaps a dereliction of duty as well. Hearing you defend Wolfrum just now turned my stomach. If you cannot see now, after his actions of today, that he deserves no more compassion from you, then I must wonder whether you are as much a lost cause as he is. You need to grow up, Mykola."

Mina turned toward the Sword. "I apologize if I overstepped my authority, Machus, but that needed to be said, and nobeast else was saying it."

Mykola stood staring at the squirrel Lady in disbelief. Torn between anger over her words and guilt that she may have been right, he could find no words of his own to defend himself. The accusation that his concern for Wolfrum, and other troubled beasts like the rat, wasn't just pointless and futile but downright immoral… He had been criticized for his views and methods before, but never so harshly. It was such a slap in the face to him and to everything in which he believed that he was left speechless and quivering as those words sank in.

As he'd done on the banks of the River Moss during their journey to Redwall, Machus spared Mykola from having to answer the Gawtrybe Lady. "Mina, I know your views on these matters, on good and evil and punishment, but we're not here to discuss them now. Mykola has only ever done what he thought was right, and it's futile to criticize him for that now."

Mina's jaw remained firmly set. "Perhaps if that criticism had been given seasons before now, we'd not be gathered here deliberating these offenses to Redwall. I've said all I have to say on the matter."

Machus turned to his fellow fox. "I appreciate that this must be difficult for you, Mykola. But you are a swordfox, a member of the brigade Lord Urthblood relies on the most to keep order in the ranks. Personal feelings have no place in this. Not now. Not after what's happened. Your responsibility this night must be to the entire army, not just individual soldiers. When one of them commits an atrocity like this, your responsibility extends to all the lands to make sure that danger is ended. Permanently.

And if you insist upon trying to see things from Wolfrum's perspective, do you really think a life like his can be considered worthwhile? A short-tempered rogue who gets into trouble over the smallest matters, whose hopes for improvement are dashed at the slightest obstacle, who constantly suffers retributions and torment for his behaviour, who can only behave well when his superiors coax and wheedle and finesse such conduct from him, and who knows no life but that of a soldier and will be incapable of adapting to anything else?"

Stepping just a bit closer to Mykola, Machus looked deeply into his underling's eyes, his voice taking on a more gentle tone.

"Mykola, this must be done. No army can tolerate a creature like Wolfrum in its ranks. We cannot begin to rebuild any trust with the Redwallers until we make certain this problem is taken care of once and for all, and set an example that will discourage any of our other soldiers from doing something like that again. Everybeast will be better off for it in the end. Wolfrum too."

Mykola finally understood that it was over. Wolfrum was going to be executed and there was nothing he could say or do to convince Machus otherwise. And the Sword was right: even if Mykola could talk him out of his decision, it would be unwise to do so. The rat couldn't be allowed to live after what he'd done; everybeast would agree with that.

His acceptance of his commander's decree gave Mykola a strange sense of calm and composure over the situation. If he couldn't change the judgment that had been passed upon Wolfrum, he would at least try and change the way it was carried out, and by whom…

"I understand, sir," he said with his newfound resolution. "The laws of Lord Urthblood's forces state that anybeast who commits an act like Wolfrum's must die for it, and I cannot go against that. But if I may, I would like to make one final request…"

"Go on," the Sword prompted.

"Well sir… if Wolfrum is to die tonight, I want to be the one to carry out that sentence."

The gathered beasts all showed their surprise at this. "You?" Machus asked. "Why?"

Taking a moment to find the right words, Mykola finally said, "I know you've already asked Tolar to do it, but I think I should do it instead. Since I'm the one who had responsibility for Wolfrum until recently and you consider me partially to blame for his recent actions, I should be the one to 'clean up this mess,' as you might say. That can be part of my penance for my failures: having to end the life of the beast I couldn't manage to save.

"And also because… I know you might think this strange, but I would actually consider it a final act of compassion. I'll make sure his death is as quick and painless as possible. Because considering how you all feel about him right now, I'm not sure I'd trust you to make his death any easier than necessary. And if he was in the presence of someone he trusted during his last moments on this world… Well, it might make things a little easier for him…"

Mina bristled. "And could _we_ trust _you_ to carry out the sentence at all?"

Mykola gave an emphatic nod. "Yes, M'Lady. Because it would be my sworn duty to do so, and I would not shirk it."

"That rat does not deserve an easy death," Mina bit off.

Machus added his voice to the debate. "Also keep in mind, Mykola, if the fox who slays Wolfrum happens to be the one he trusted and was close to, that might actually make the whole thing more painful to him."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, sir."

Leaning forward, Tolar broke into the conversation. "You haven't actually executed anybeast before, have you?"

This was indeed true. "No. I haven't. But I've witnessed enough of the ones you've carried out to know exactly how it's done, so I'll be able to do it quickly and cleanly, or at least as clean as any such thing can be done."

Mykola looked towards Mina, this time not even trying to mask his hostility. "Besides, if I'm really as weak-hearted and soft on evil creatures as some beasts claim, maybe it's time I toughened up by performing my first execution…"

Mina regarded him with a look both stern and dubious, but held her tongue. Turning back to Machus, Mykola awaited his captain's response.

Machus gazed back at him for many long moments, his face unreadable. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally gave his answer.

"Very well, Mykola. Since this means so much to you, I will grant you this concession. You will be the one to slay Wolfrum."

Mykola bowed forlornly. "Thank you, sir."

"As I have said," Machus continued, "it is to be done the hour after midnight. Does that suit you?"

The short-legged fox mulled it over. "If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to do it an hour or so before that. I'd prefer to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. It should be more than dark enough by then already, and all the Abbeybeasts should be fast asleep. I can even see to Wolfrum's burial, and then we'll have this whole unpleasant business over and done with."

"Yes, that seems reasonable," the Sword responded. "I'll send out Tolar shortly after midnight to make sure everything went all right." Stepping closer to Mykola, Machus's features were solemn and inquiring. "You remember that question I asked you when we were at the River Moss? About whether you were certain Wolfrum would behave during his stay at Redwall? I mention this now not as a challenge, since things happened afterwards that nobeast could have foreseen, but I need to ask you something similar now. Can I trust you to do the right thing and end Wolfrum's life on your own?"

"You heard what I told Lady Mina, sir. Since I failed to live up to my last promise, I will not disappoint you this time."

Machus nodded and stepped back, seemingly satisfied by this earnest declaration. "Very well. You will need to exit the Abbey just before midnight, so you have a few more hours to prepare yourself. I'll see to it that my foxes are the only ones standing watch over the southern ramparts tonight so that no awkward questions are asked by the Redwallers. You should probably leave by the east wallgate and take a short detour through the woods so Wolfrum won't see you coming before you want him to. If he's already been killed by his comrades, come right back in and report to me. Otherwise, I'm leaving it to you to do what needs to be done. I'll send Tolar out after an hour has passed to make sure everything went right."

"That sounds good, yes…"

"All right. I think that covers everything for now," the swordfox captain announced to everybeast present. "Later tonight Mykola will perform this sad duty, and tomorrow we'll discuss what we're going to do with Smallert."

The gathering dispersed, with Mina throwing a cool look towards Mykola as she left. Machus made to join her but then paused, turning back to his limping subordinate. The Sword's posture and expression softened once they were alone.

"Mykola, I'm sorry that it has to end this way," he said with a sigh. "I know how close Wolfrum was to you, and more to the point how important it was to you to try and reform him. I wish as much as you do that things could have gone differently. But we have to proceed from how things actually stand, not how we'd want them to be. Just do what you volunteered to do tonight, and then try to put this unpleasant episode behind you."

Mykola gave a barely perceptible nod to his captain's surprisingly gentle words, not having any of his own to add. Then Machus was gone and Mykola was left by himself, to prepare physically and mentally for what he would have to do in a few hours.

Come midnight, Wolfrum's life would end… and so would an important stage in Mykola's life as well…


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

_And here we are at the final chapter of this little fic. It feels immensely gratifying to have come this far, and despite the troubles it's sometime meant it's been an incredibly rewarding experience to have written this six-chapter story. _

_I want to take the time to truly thank Highwing for all his help in providing critique to this fic and taking the time to edit it, which he did for me without me ever having expected or asked for it nor with any tangible rewards on his part. He has spent almost as much time on it as I have, His work has made this fic so much better than I could ever have hoped to make it by myself, and there's now words to truly express how grateful I am to him. I can just say: Thank you, Wing. I will never forget what you've done for me here._

_I also want to thank my readers who have provided such kind and uplifting reviews and comments. I hope you will enjoy this final chapter and consider it a worthy conclusion to my little story about Wolfrum, and that it'll give you as much pleasure reading it as it's given me writing it._

_And just in case it wasn't obvious by now: this is based on The Crimson Badger by Highwing. Spoilers abound._

As night wore on, a thickening cover of clouds rolled over Mossflower, swallowing moon and stars in its black veil and turning the world even darker and the woodlands more impenetrable… which perfectly suited Mykola's purposes.

Approaching the eastern wall with a determined stride, the limping vulpine requested that the otter guards open the gate for him.

"At this hour?" one of them responded.

"Machus wants me to check on the banished soldiers outside. Make sure they're not up to causing any further trouble. It should have been done before now, but we foxes had other matters occupying our attention."

Seeing no reason to refuse or question him further, the otters lifted the latch and pushed open the gate. If any of them wondered why the fox had chosen to exit here instead of through the south wallgate, closer to where the banished vermin were encamped, they kept their questions to themselves.

And so Mykola stole out into the darkness, melting into the night…

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What Tolar had said a few hours earlier was indeed true: Mykola had slain plenty of enemies on the field of battle - an often necessary and unavoidable duty, even if he took no pleasure in it - but he'd never actually taken the life of any soldier in Urthblood's service.

The captains and officers of the various regiments were at liberty to dish out whatever routine punishments they deemed necessary for the coherence and morale of their subordinates. However, under ordinary circumstances only Urthblood and his swordfoxes decided when the ultimate punishment was justified, and they were the ones to carry it out.

Mykola had attended several such executions, each as unpleasant as the next. Urthblood and his army weren't cruel, and they didn't make the condemned beasts' death any more protracted than necessary (for the most part anyway; Mykola always shuddered when recalling the story of the ferret Kedrin, who'd sought to take over Urthblood's army for his own by poisoning the badger, and who'd been forced to swallow his own poisoned knife in front of the other troops as an example of what happened to traitors. While Mykola had been fortunate enough not to witness this episode in person, it had always struck the fox as unnecessarily sadistic.) But it wasn't just the manner of routine executions that made the whole thing so uncomfortable to him. It was the entire attitude towards the condemned.

In the eyes of Urthblood and his captains, any soldier who committed a crime meriting death was reduced to a non-entity. He wasn't a beast anymore, just a thorn in the army's side to be disposed of. After being judged unworthy of life, the condemned was usually taken immediately to kneel before the sword or stand before the noose; time was rarely wasted trying to comfort him or provide any last requests. And when it was over, nobeast would willingly risk the dishonour of openly displaying sympathy for a dead criminal by mourning over his out-of-the-way, unmarked grave.

Vermin soldiers were naturally the ones who most often had to face a dishonourable death, but Mykola had once witnessed the hanging of an otter who'd murdered a civilian during a brawl. This had caused quite a stir within the detachment, since some woodlanders felt that as "better creatures" they shouldn't be subject to the same punishments. Lord Urthblood had insisted, however, that nobeast who committed such a despicable crime would be exempt from execution. His aim was to promote equality between the two factions of former adversaries, and just as the vermin had to learn to behave like decent goodbeasts, the woodlanders had to face the same penalties for the same crimes.

And now Mykola would administer that punishment, the ultimate one, to Wolfrum within a matter of minutes. Doing his best to maintain his swordfox composure, he couldn't help but shiver inwardly. The distress he felt at having to kill the rat was so overwhelming that he almost wished he could trade places with him.

And nagging at the back of his mind was Lady Mina's accusation from earlier that evening. Was she right? Was it improper to show such concern over beasts like Wolfrum when there were so many suffering goodbeasts in need of help? Was it a betrayal of good to show sympathy to the wicked, or to those who sometimes committed wicked deeds? Even goodbeasts sometimes did bad things, but they were never condemned as beyond salvation for their occasional lapses. So many questions raged through Mykola's mind, and he could not think of answers for any of them.

Picking his way into the woods below Redwall's eastern ramparts, the fox steeled himself for his task and turned his pawsteps south, his keen vulpine vision and expert swordsbeast's training enabling him to stride through the nearly pitch black forest without betraying his silent passage to listening ears or straining eyes. Shortly he would be upon the spot where the banished soldiers were camped… and then Wolfrum's life would end.

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Mykola soon came upon the banished soldiers, who'd sought refuge under the trees near the forest's edge. None stirred as he drew near, his approach stealthy enough to avoid waking anybeast or drawing unwanted attention to himself. Now he had to proceed quickly. He stood letting his eyes adjust to this new deeper darkness, struggling to make out which of the reclined forms was Wolfrum, but the cloud cover that had helped hide his approach now proved a mixed blessing, with even his trained eye and fox's night vision unable to make out the rat in the darkness.

This complicated matters. Mykola preferred not to slay Wolfrum in the presence of the rat's fellow soldiers, if that could be avoided. A clearer, brighter night might have allowed him to more easily spot his target and signal for the others to disperse without alerting Wolfrum to his peril. Wolfrum hardly struck Mykola as the sort of creature to quietly accept his doom and be led off to a secluded place for his execution.

As it turned out, however, Wolfrum would inadvertently help Mykola in this regard by announcing his position himself.

"Gerroww! Havin' me sleep ruined, by that stupid li'l mousechild, an' that damned fox! T'weren't my fault, I were only defendin' meself, that Smallert's the one t' blame…"

Just ahead of the fox, Wolfrum had suddenly awakened from a fitful slumber, apparently tormented by a nightmare shaped from his actions of that day. Sadly, Mykola noted, that nightmare seemed to elicit only anger and resentment over the rat's self-created predicament, not introspection and remorse. This observation allowed Mykola to harden himself for what he was about to do.

Slowly stepping forward, Mykola was finally noticed by the nearer ferrets and stoats. The fox drew his sword from its sheath with the faintest whisper of a swish, a ghost noise almost unheard in the night. The soldiers now aware of his proximity needed no gesture of dismissal to quietly rise from their spots and melt away into the black forest. Mykola slowly walked on.

Wolfrum made no effort to keep his voice down, apparently wanting to share his misery with his fellows without any thought as to whether this might disturb their slumbers. He either failed to appreciate or simply didn't care that he might have been better off keeping his complaints to himself, after causing the death of Speeg and getting his comrades exiled from the Abbey.

"Psst! Hey, Gorsul, that you?" he whispered to the nearest rat shadow. "Shame 'bout pore ol' Speeg, that dirty Smallert's a right nasty madbeast. Hope Machus has got that mean ol' weasel gutted an' chopped up fer fishbait by now. Slayin' Speeg like that, an' that idiot mouse whelp who got in th' middle of it all…"

Despite the close relationship Mykola had shared with the rat prior to this latest incident, Wolfrum's blatantly unrepentant remarks, uttered loudly enough for the fox's sharp ears to clearly hear, turned something within Mykola hard as stone. Mina had urged him to let go of his pity for Wolfrum, and there was no better time to do that than now, with the rat placing all the blame for his terrible deed on Smallert and so callously mocking the fate of young Cyrus, who for all he knew could very well have died during the night. Wolfrum had to pay dearly for what he'd done and said, of that there could be no doubt.

Mykola crept forward, coming at last to where the rats lay. One by one the rodents noticed the dark silhouette of the sword-wielding vulpine, and one by one they wordlessly rose and backed away, realizing what the fox was about to do. Mykola glanced to his left and spotted Liam, the sergeant rat looking toward his swordfox friend with dismay and regret, or so Mykola imagined in the obscuring darkness. But in the end Liam too stood and turned away; there was nothing he could do to prevent this, and he knew it.

"Hey, don't go leavin' yer ol' pal all alone on a gloomy night like this!" Wolfrum hissed more loudly as he noticed his comrades getting to their feet and backing away from him, still oblivious to the approaching danger. "Have some heart, matey!"

Finally, every other rat was gone, leaving Mykola's target plainly obvious, even in the deep night. Finding himself suddenly alone in the darkness, Wolfrum nervously glanced about, realizing at last that something was wrong. Thus his eyes came to rest on the figure taking shape out of the black night… and the sword carried in its right paw.

Comprehending at last what was about to befall him, a strangled, incoherent cry escaped Wolfrum's throat as he climbed to his feet and turned to flee. Unfortunately, his impaled, crudely bandaged footpaw was in no shape for running, forcing him to limp worse and worse with each step, but his blind and mindless panic impelled him on, heedless of the pain and the utter hopelessness of his situation as he screamed in terror during his vain attempt to escape into the dark depths of Mossflower Woods.

Had Wolfrum not been in such a panic, and had the night been just a little brighter, he might have noticed that his pursuer ironically walked with a noticeable limp himself. But such details were lost on him in his current state, his only concern the impossible task of getting away from that pursuer.

Mykola let Wolfrum continue his attempted flight for a few moments while stalking behind him at a brisk pace, until they were both safely beyond the forlorn campsite and the scattered soldiers doing their best not to think about what was about to happen. Then the fox lunged forward and gave the rat a hard push on the shoulder, driving Wolfrum onto his stomach on the forest floor and abruptly cutting off his screams. Before the rat could regain his voice, Mykola knelt and flipped Wolfrum over onto his back, sword at the ready, and glanced deeply into the eyes of his former charge.

As his eyes focused upon the face looming above him and the features of the fox emerged from the darkness, Wolfrum saw for the first time just who had been sent to kill him. Any sign of struggle disappeared from him as he could only stare back at his mentor, the closest thing he'd ever had to a real friend, his gaze becoming pleading and contrite.

"Mikky… Please, please don't do this! I'm beggin' you…"

But his plea for mercy carried no hope in it. Mykola could tell that even Wolfrum understood it was over, that there was no way he'd be getting out of this alive.

Pinning Wolfrum to the ground by his collarbone, Mykola raised his sword and positioned it for a swift, clean pass through the rat's heart. It had come to this, and now there was no turning back. With Wolfrum helplessly immobilized below him, all the fox had to do was thrust his blade downward and the duty he'd taken upon himself would be complete.

He didn't.

Mykola couldn't understand why, but his sword paw remained poised over Wolfrum without dealing the final blow. It was as if the world had frozen around the two beasts, the condemned rodent staring into his superior's eyes while awaiting the lethal strike, the fox unable to perform what everybeast - himself included - expected of him.

Abruptly, the fox stood, re-sheathed his sword and, grabbing the rat by his vest, hauled Wolfrum up onto his footpaws as well.

"Come with me, and don't make a sound…" he hissed, before half-dragging the confused, limping rodent deeper into the forest with him.

After about a minute's brisk walk - as brisk as Wolfrum could manage on his injured footpaw - Mykola halted them near a large spruce, strikingly similar to the one beneath which they'd had their heartfelt talk during the storm more than a week ago. Shifting his grip on Wolfrum's vest, Mykola pulled the rat to him until their whiskers nearly touched and stared hard into the other's eyes, his features crystallized into a cold mask.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," he growled. "By all rights, I should just slay you here and now and have your worthless hide thrown under the earth, as I've been ordered to. It would only be what you deserve after what you did today.

"But I'm not going to kill you. It's insane and stupid and irresponsible of me to do so, but I'm going to let you live."

Wolfrum's eyes went wide at those words, the rat unable to believe what his old mentor was saying.

"Now, just to make sure you understand just what I'm doing for your sake," Mykola continued, "I'm letting a condemned beast escape his punishment in Lord Urthblood's army. If this is ever discovered, my life will be forfeit as well. But I'm going to risk that. On your behalf. This is the last favour I will ever do for you, and I hope you can appreciate just how huge it is…"

Releasing Wolfrum's vest and looking down at the rat's injured foot, Mykola produced a kerchief from one of his pockets and knelt to tend the wound, peeling away some of the crude bandages and smearing some of the blood from the oozing laceration on the cloth. Wolfrum gave a barely audible groan from the pain, but otherwise held his silence as ordered.

The fox rose. "I want you to leave now." Reaching into another pocket he pulled out a small roll of bandages and passed it to the rat. "It won't be easy with that footpaw of yours, but you'll just have to risk it; these bandages should be an improvement over the makeshift ones you have now. Stop and put them on once you're well away from here. You should've been dead by now anyway, so be grateful that you're getting this opportunity.

"And if you want to express that gratitude," Mykola intoned with all the gravity and solemn authority he could muster, "do so by spending your life atoning for what you've done this day. The reason I've chosen to spare you is because despite all that has happened, despite what you've done and how you've behaved, I still have hope for you, mad as that sounds. I still believe you can change into something better. You've behaved like a barbarian these past two days, but before that I saw you making real progress away from your usual self. And I'm prepared to give you one last chance, one last opportunity to turn your life around."

Wolfrum stared back at the swordfox, quivering and stammering, trying to find words to respond. "I… I…"

"Don't speak. Just turn around and walk away, quietly as you can. I'll try to convince the others that you're dead, and you should be well on your way before they ever find out otherwise, if they ever do. Go south; none of Urthblood's forces are there, and with luck you'll find some settlement that will accept you and take you in, where you can hide for the rest of your days. If fortune gets you that far, remember what happened here, remember what you did and that I still chose to spare you even though I risked my own life doing so. And let those memories be a lesson to you to finally change your ways and never do anything like this again, Wolfrum. Don't let this chance you've been given go to waste…"

For a few moments, Wolfrum just stood before Mykola, a wide range of conflicted emotions playing across his features. Even in the darkness, the fox could see tears starting to well up in the rat's eyes: tears of sadness, of fear, of uncertainty and of simply being overwhelmed by what had just happened. And beneath it all, tears of unfathomable gratitude and even, though Mykola couldn't be quite sure of it in the dim light, of a slight trace of remorse.

And then Wolfrum the disgraced and dishonoured soldier rat did as he was told, turning around and limping away into the black night. The last Mykola saw of Wolfrum was the tip of his tail disappearing among the mighty forest giants, and then he was gone, consumed by the darkness.

Mykola stood where he was long after the rat had disappeared into the night, pondering what to do next. He'd put himself in a tight spot; Tolar was soon due to check up on how things had gone. That left very little time for him to devise some masquerade which might convince Tolar and everybeast else that Wolfrum had indeed been executed; otherwise, Wolfrum would be quickly hunted down and slain, and Mykola would be lucky if his punishment was limited to expulsion from the swordfox brigade and a dishonourable discharge from Lord Urthblood's army.

He realized he would not be able to arrange such a deception alone. He would need an accomplice…

Hastening back to the soldiers, and hoping none had dared to follow him into the forest with Wolfrum, Mykola brought forth the bloodied handkerchief. The first thing anybeast saw upon his return was him wiping it across the edge of his blade, the implication clear and frightening. Striding imperiously through their number, they cowered in silent deference. Seeking out Liam, Mykola beckoned him over and the sergeant rat obeyed, if hesitantly.

"I need your help," the fox said matter-of-factly. "Take two shovels and a large sheet from our supplies and come with me."

Jumping to the natural - but mistaken - conclusion about why these materials would be needed, Liam nodded somberly and dug them out of one of the supply haversacks, then followed Mykola through the woods to the spot where the fox had let Wolfrum go.

Seeing Mykola come to a halt, Liam stopped as well and took stock of their surroundings. The rat anxiously gazed around, searching the darkness for the corpse he knew must be nearby. Failing to find it, he turned a bewildered gaze toward the swordfox.

"So… where is he? Ain't we supposed to…?"

Mykola didn't answer in words, instead directing a drained and imploring look back at the rat. After a few hearbeats, Liam's eyes went wide.

"You… you let him…?"

"Yes…" The fox nodded almost imperceptibly.

"But… why?"

Again the night fell silent as Mykola pondered the matter. "I don't know," he confessed at last with a sigh. "I honestly don't know. But… I just couldn't do it. Even after all that's happened, I just couldn't do it. I told him to leave and never set foot near us or Redwall again, and to remember the mercy I showed him and atone for his crimes. I know it was foolish and irresponsible of me, but… I just couldn't give up on him, not like this…"

Regaining his equilibrium, the fox gave his friend a long, hard look.

"If you disagree with my decision, I'll understand completely, and if you feel you must report this to Machus, I'll not try to stop you. But remember, if you do, Wolfrum will be hunted down and killed, and my own life may be forfeit as well. If you choose instead to hold this secret with me, I'll need your help to cover this up and convince our superiors that Wolfrum is truly dead. Choose quickly, because Tolar will be here soon to check on how things went."

Liam stood still for many moments, the rolled sheet tucked under his left arm and the shovel handles limp in his right, their blades resting aimlessly against the soft ground. Incredulous that even Mykola might so flagrantly disobey Machus, he was clearly agonizing over what to do. If he did help to cover up Wolfrum's escape, he would be an accomplice to the crime and receive the same punishment as Mykola. But if he chose to report it, he might indeed condemn the fox, and the run-away rat, to death.

After several moments of intense deliberation, he looked to the swordfox and asked, "How d'you want this done?"

Mykola gave his friend a faint smile in appreciation of the risk Liam had chosen to take upon himself. The fox pointed to a nearby spot on the ground. "We'll need to dig a mock grave here, and I'll fill up the sheet with earth and rocks to make it look like there could be a rat wrapped up in it. We don't have much time, so we have to dig for all we're worth!"

And so they did. Working in tandem at a frantic pace until they'd excavated a roughly rectangular hole in the earth nearly waist deep, Mykola hoisted himself up out of the fake grave while leaving Liam to continue his frenetic digging. The fox gathered much of the earth they'd thrown from the hole and put it on the blanket, along with a couple of sticks, logs and rocks he gathered from the surrounding woods and placed in strategic positions. After that, he wrapped the sheet around the roughly assembled package, shifting some of the contents around until it looked like there could be a body inside it.

After that, he jumped back down to help Liam deepen the grave further. While they could have kept it shallow for time's sake, Mykola wanted to make it as close to the standard depth as possible to avoid any awkward questions. But they pushed themselves to work as rapidly as they could, for Mykola worried that if Tolar came upon them while they were still digging, the other fox might insist on seeing the body within the sheet. If the "body" already been interred beneath the earth, Tolar would hopefully be content to let the matter lie.

When they'd reached what Mykola deemed to be the appropriate depth, the lip of the grave coming up well past Liam's chest, they jumped up and lowered the earth-filled sheet into it.

"Wait here," Mykola ordered. "I'm going to fetch some of the other troops to help us refill the grave."

Liam looked up in surprise. "But, I thought we were gonna do this alone…"

"Yes, but it will help our story if we can arrange to have one or two additional 'witnesses' to say they saw Wolfrum's body, even if it was wrapped in a sheet. Machus will be less likely to suspect anything if he hears from somebeasts other than us that I did indeed carry out the execution as ordered."

The rat nodded in understanding. "Well, let's just hope yer made-up corpse looks believable…"

Mykola went off to find his unwitting co-conspirators, returning shortly afterwards with two ferrets. One of them was Veach, who'd provided most of Wolfrum's quarterstaff "training" earlier that day. Led to the grave, the two newcomers glanced down at the "body" lying at the bottom of it. Neither seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Of course, when measures like these were necessary, it was always best not to look too closely, not to question and, most of all, to do exactly what you were told to get it all over with as quickly as possible.

Still, Veach was hardly content to keep his personal feelings regarding Wolfrum to himself.

"Fttin' end fer that bastard. Kinda surprised you favoured that scum with a burial shroud t'all."

"Even somebeast like Wolfrum deserves some basic dignity at the very last," Mykola responded, knowing that such a remark would be perfectly in keeping with how the troops knew he regarded the army's misfits. "Now help us refill the grave and be done with this."

With this extra muscle and the additional shovel the ferrets had brought with them, the earth was quickly filled back into the "grave" as Mykola stood aside, overseeing the final stages of this operation. After Liam finished tamping down the mound with the flat of his shovel, the four of them left without any last words, the rat and the ferrets once again settling down amongst their comrades, who seemed decidedly uncomfortable with what had just happened - or at least what they understood as having just happened. Unpopular as Wolfrum had been, and as much as he'd deserved his fate for what he'd done, it was never easy to know that one of your fellow soldiers had been put to death.

"It's up to me now," Mykola whispered to Liam as they parted company for the night. "Get some rest. We'll talk again tomorrow."

The rat nodded, clearly nervous about whether they would get away with what they'd done, and Mykola exited the forest to return to the Abbey. However, before he reached it he saw Tolar rounding the eastern side of the wall, walking towards him.

Mykola breathed a sigh of relief; he'd managed to finish just in time. Now he mentally steeled himself; he'd never lied to a superior before, but that was precisely what he'd have to do now.

Meeting up with his short-legged subordinate, Tolar wasted no time inquiring how things had gone.

"He's dead," Mykola told him. "I did exactly as you said: I exited Redwall through the east wallgate and made my way to where the soldiers were camped. When the others noticed me striding forward, sword in paw, they dispersed and left Wolfrum all to me. He tried to run when he saw me, but didn't get far on that damaged footpaw of his. I followed him a way into the forest to spare the others from witnessing what had to be done, then I brought him to the ground, told him I was sorry for what I had to do and then…"

He made a paw gesture across his throat. Tolar nodded grimly.

"After that, I followed your advice and buried him immediately. Liam and I dug the grave where Wolfrum fell, and we had two of the ferrets help us refill it, since we were pretty tired by then. Veach and Uliam, I think they were. Oh, and I also wrapped Wolfrum in a white sheet as a shroud before he was lain to his final rest. I know you might regard it as an undeserving gesture, but… Well, it was my final parting gift to him, in a way…"

"I understand," Tolar responded. "I must say, I'm impressed by how quickly you managed to get Wolfrum buried. You must've really put your backs into it…"

Mykola cursed inwardly. He'd known it might look suspicious, hurrying to have the grave dug before Tolar showed up, as if they actually wanted to hide something from him, but that particular risk had been unavoidable. Now that Tolar had commented on it, Mykola tried out the answer he'd started preparing in his mind the moment he decided to spare Wolfrum.

"I just wanted the whole thing over with before you came. I mean no offense, but I thought that if you were there you might've said things about Wolfrum, made the whole thing rather uncomfortable…"

Fortunately, Tolar cut him off with a dismissive paw gesture. "It's all right, Mykola. You don't have to explain. As long as Wolfrum is dead, and this whole business is out of our fur, that's all that matters."

Mykola nodded, heaving an inward sigh of relief. Apparently, Tolar didn't suspect in his wildest imaginings that Mykola would go against the direct orders of Machus and let a condemned criminal go free. Even if that criminal had been a close charge and a friend.

"Go get some sleep now," Tolar continued. "You must be tired, and I think you've earned a good rest tonight. I'll go check to make sure that the soldiers are all right and that everything went smoothly."

"Thank you, sir," Mykola answered, continuing on his way toward the eastern wallgate. He still wasn't out of danger; if Tolar decided to question Liam, would the rat sergeant be able to keep his cool enough to lie straight to the swordfox's face? Would Liam be able to give the same account of things that Mykola had? And while the two ferrets might prove valuable witnesses and weren't in on the deception, their ignorance of what had really happened might cause some discrepancies with his story if anybeast was questioned too closely.

He also couldn't help but wonder what would happen when they rejoined Lord Urthblood. Even if Mykola got away with what he'd done here and his comrades and superiors believed him, the crimson-armoured Badger Lord possessed the extraordinary ability to detect the most well-told lies; at least the fox had never heard of anybeast who'd succeeded in deceiving Urthblood to his face. As long as Machus accepted Mykola's account and took it as the truth, the badger shouldn't be able to detect anything amiss - provided Urthblood stopped at questioning the Sword and didn't investigate further. But what if that grim warlord demanded to speak with Mykola or Liam? It wasn't likely, but if did come to pass, neither would be able to hide what they'd done from Urthblood's prophetic sight, and then they'd probably both be executed for their deception. Although by that time, at least Wolfrum would be long gone, hopefully far beyond the reach of the badger's soldiers to hunt him down. If he survived his lonely flight through the woods, that was…

And even if he and Liam did get away with it altogether, the fact remained that he had disobeyed Machus' decree and broken his promise to the Sword, deliberately this time. However things turned out, that would always tug at Mykola's conscience. And had he really done the right thing? Machus had valid reasons for wanting Wolfrum killed, and not all of them had to do with discipline. What if Mykola had set a dangerous delinquent loose on Mossflower? What if the mercy he'd shown the rat was lost on Wolfrum, leading to the misfortune of other beasts at the paws of a creature incapable of learning from and appreciating that mercy? What would become of his former charge, in the end?

He realized it was pointless to trouble himself over these worries now, however. What was done was done; either Mykola would get away with his actions and be proven right in the end, or he would not. Now it was in the paws of fate, and whatever powers watched over Mossflower would determine what would happen to everybeast involved.

Reaching the eastern gate, he bade the otter guards to admit him. Back inside, he headed past the orchard towards the main Abbey building. Mykola would be quite lucky to get some sleep; some of his fellow foxes had been on duty for over a day. Machus would be spending the night in the infirmary to watch over Cyrus, so Mykola was likely to be left quite alone this night… which suited him just fine.

Just as he was about to enter the Abbey on his way up to the dormitories, somebeast called out to him.

"Hey, Mikky…"

Glancing to his left, Mykola's mood darkened considerably as he saw Cadogan, who had stepped forward from behind one of the buttresses supporting the large section of the Abbey housing the dormitories and the infirmary. Apparently the shrew had been waiting here for quite some time.

"What are you doing here?" the fox muttered, less than pleased at encountering the creature who'd caused so much trouble and misery with his insults to Wolfrum, and gotten away with little more than a slap on the wrist for it. While all the rats, ferrets, stoats and weasels stationed at Redwall had been banished as a collective punishment for the deeds of Smallert and Wolfrum, the shrews had been exempted from this, because they had been given the duty of standing guard over Hanchett (although Mykola was certain that more than a little woodlander favouritism had factored into this decision). Quite ironic, since it was a shrew who'd instigated Wolfrum's lethal misbehavior.

"Couldn't sleep, so I figgered I may's well take a late-night stroll through th' fair grounds o' Redwall," Cadogan responded with faux innocence.

"I see," the fox remarked sceptically. "And I suppose it has nothing to do with this being the night when your favourite punching bag was about to be executed?"

Cadogan shrugged. "That too. I allers like t' make sure villains like him get wot's comin' to 'em." Stepping closer and lowering his voice, the shrew asked, "By th' way, I 'eard you took it 'pon yerself to carry out the execution. That true?"

"It is."

"And… didja do it? Is Wolfrum really dead now?"

"Yes…" Mykola answered almost inaudibly.

Cadogan's face suddenly shone as if with joy, and he stepped forward to give the fox a congratulatory pat on his shoulder. "Well done, Mikky! I knew y' had it in you! T'was afraid there fer awhile you'd gone all soft 'n' weak, what with yer constant weepin' over scum like that rat, but you've shown now that ye're a true soldier. Glad you finally realized what a rotten bastard Wolfrum was an' put him outta all our misery. Just hold that attitude in mind in th' future, an' you'll earn back th' respect an' admiration of everybeast in this army that you almost threw away."

Then he stood back, gazing up at the fox with a self-satisfied grin on his features.

There were so many things Mykola could have said to the shrew at that moment. There were so many things Mykola wished he could've _done_to the shrew at that moment. But right then he had no strength for any further altercations, and decided to end their chat so he could get some rest.

"Cadogan…?" he said, every ounce of his weariness evident in his voice.

"Yes?"

"Fuck off."

Then he turned to limp through the doorway and up to the dormitories to enjoy a night's sleep in one of Redwall's famous beds, leaving the shrew behind in stunned amazement and, blessedly, silence.

0000000000000000000

The next day dawned clear and bright over Mossflower, a day which made it hard to believe such evil deeds could have taken place on the one before. The foxes came down from their walltop duty to be relieved by a fresh crew of otters and squirrels, and the swordsbeasts headed off to their rooms for the first sleep many of them would have in two days.

Since Mykola had already been enjoying rest that night, he woke shortly after dawn and accompanied Korix for a brief foray out the south wallgate to check on the banished vermin. The soldiers displayed a muted bitterness over what most saw as an unfair punishment of all for the actions of a few, as well as agitation over what had taken place during the night, but the authority and presence of the swordfoxes quickly cowed them.

They also made a quick trip to Wolfrum's "grave." Mykola masked well his nervousness at being so close to the empty grave in the presence of a fellow swordfox, but Korix seemed to accept Mykola's account of the events without reservation. One quick look at the overturned, packed earth was all Korix needed to satisfy himself that Wolfrum was finally dead.

After heading back to the Abbey to join their fellows for a bite of breakfast in Great Hall, Mykola parted ways with Korix, ascending to the Infirmary to check up on the wounded mouse Cyrus. The youth truly did look to be out of danger, resting in his sickbed almost like a child merely asleep rather than somebeast who'd sustained nearly fatal wounds the day before. The mood of joy and hope in the sickbay was palpable, as was the gratitude and appreciation shown to Machus.

Seeking out his Sword, who'd already been informed of the night's events by Tolar, Mykola asked to spend part of his day's shift watching over the banished soldiers outside. His request granted, Mykola proceeded outdoors. Noon found him seated on the ground relaxing against the south Abbey wall, monitoring the soldiers at the forest's edge as they milled about, nibbling on their hardtack rations (a tasteless meal made all the moreso by the food they'd recently been treated to inside Redwall). Most made a show of pointedly ignoring the swordfox whose keen vision, even at this distance, was sure to miss no detail or any trouble any of them planned to start.

In truth, Mykola, with so much on his mind, was only giving the vermin troops half his attention. Machus, Tolar and the others seemed to have accepted his version of events, and so long as Urthblood didn't seek to question him about it at some future time, he and Liam might just get by with their masquerade.

Then there was the matter of Smallert. Mykola had heard before venturing outside that the hare Hanchett had indeed spared his unwilling weasel cellmate, moved by Smallert's outpouring of remorse and self-loathing. Apparently Machus was less than satisfied with Hanchett's display of magnanimity, having hoped the hare would act to get Smallert out of his fur permanently. Mykola, however, was glad things had turned out this way - and not just because he didn't think Smallert deserved death. If the weasel had been put to death inside Redwall without the permission of the Abbess, relations between Northlanders and Redwallers could have suffered, negating the trust Machus had gained by saving Cyril. For now, it was agreed that Smallert would enjoy a few more days of life, apparently as part of some scheme to let the hare out of his cell without being able to escape from the Abbey.

Contention also festered over the fate of Wolfrum. While the (supposed) execution had been performed outside the Abbey's walls, Abbess Vanessa was rankled that such a death sentence had been passed without consulting Redwall's leaders. Machus and Mina, after initially telling the Abbess that Wolfrum might've run off in the night, or been dispatched by his resentful fellow soldiers, were at last forced to confess that they'd ordered the rat killed. This feeble attempt at deception on their part secretly provided Mykola with some morbid amusement. While it wasn't uncommon to mistakenly misstate the facts of a matter, it was considerably rarer to tell a lie that accidentally happened to be the truth.

And then there was Wolfrum himself. Mykola had of course been thinking a lot about him, and last night's events, since yesterday. Even aside from the moral issue of whether it was right to spare the rat after what he'd done and what he might conceivably do in the future, there was also the question of whether he'd survive his flight at all. With that wounded footpaw of his, and no weapons or supplies except the bandage Mykola had given him, his immediate fate was far from certain. If he succumbed to starvation, disease or the enmity of any hostile beasts he encountered, it might've been more merciful if Mykola really had simply killed and buried him in accordance with the Sword's orders.

He wondered where Wolfrum was right now… and what would become of him.

His ponderings were interrupted then by the approach of Liam, and the fox didn't mind being broken out of his reverie by the rat sergeant.

"Hullo, Mikky," Liam greeted him with a faint smile. "How're ya doing?"

"As well as can be expected, considering the circumstances," Mykola answered. "And you?"

"Pretty much th' same. So, um, mind if I join you?"

"You should know better than having to ask me that by now."

"Well, with that air o' cold, distant authority you foxes wrap yerselves with," Liam said as he sat down by Mykola's side, "a beast kinda gets inta th' habit of askin' permission fer anything. 'Sides, everybeast needs its alone time once in a while."

"True," Mykola admitted. "But right now I don't mind a bit of company."

Liam threw a few apprehensive glances around them, and up towards the battlements as well. "Well, we got a lot t' talk about, but I dunno if it's wise to do it here…"

"No, I don't think it is," the fox agreed prudently.

Nodding in silent agreement, Liam chose his next words carefully, wanting to communicate his thoughts and concerns to his friend without verbally acknowledging their secret. "Well, I hope it turns right in the end."

"We all do, Liam."

Realizing there was no practical way to openly discuss what was really on their minds about the previous night's conspiracy, the rat decided to catch up on recent events instead. "So, d'you know what's happened to Smallert?"

"Yes. He's still alive," Mykola said, relating the details of Smallert's imprisonment with the Long Patrol hare and what Machus planned to do with him now that Hanchett had failed to dispose of the weasel. "He'll have a few days left in life, at the most."

"I see." The rat nodded sadly. "I know 'im, a little. Seems a nice, kindhearted creature. Dunno what possessed him t' do what he did, but I don't think he deserves death. We all saw just how remorseful he was when he saw how he'd wounded that mouse an' slain poor Speeg. Certainly more remorseful than…"

He trailed off, deciding Mykola needed no reminder of Wolfrum's pathetic and reprehensible display during the previous day's sad incident.

Fortunately, the fox kept his calm and introspective demeanor. "Yes, he was. I wish Machus would show more forgiveness toward him, but that Sword is still too upset over the damage done to our relations with Redwall to be in any mood for mercy. Under other circumstances I might try to plead with him on Smallert's behalf, but considering that I've already done so for Wolfrum, it might not be wise to push him too far in such matters."

Liam leaned forward to whisper, "Well, if 'ee makes it through this whole thing with 'is life, I hope he learns from it an' carries it with him fer the rest o' his days…"

Mykola looked toward the rat sergeant quizzically, unsure exactly which beast he'd been referring to, but Liam had already moved on to the next subject. "What about that mousechild… Cyric, weren't it? Will 'ee be a'right?"

"Cyrus? Yes, I was up in the infirmary earlier, and it seems he's mostly out of danger. His color has returned almost to normal, and his breathing was deep and full. I'd never have believed anybeast could recover so quickly from such terrible wounds, but Machus must have treated him more effectively than I could have imagined."

"Yeah, that Machus is a real miracle-worker with his healing skills," Liam agreed.

"Indeed. When I visited the Infirmary, I could truly sense just how grateful the Redwallers were toward him. I know some of these woodlanders would never have considered showing admiration or respect for a fox before we came here, but the appreciation and gratitude everybeast exhibited was astounding!"

The rat sergeant contemplated Mykola's words, then his face split into a fang-filled beam of encouragement. "Y' know, p'raps somethin' positive came from this sad event after all."

"What do you mean?" Mykola inquired.

"Well, this incident might've allowed Machus, an' mebbe even his swordfoxes and us vermin, t' grow closer to th' Redwallers than we woulda otherwise. Let's face it, what happened yesterday coulda shattered our relations beyond repair, but now that 'ee's saved young Cyrus, Machus may've forged a bond o' friendship better'n any we coulda hoped for. Not sayin' t'was a good thing we lost Speeg an' the mouse got wounded, but it does seem to've led to some good things too. Funny how the forces o' fate play out sometimes, but oftimes… What?"

Liam noticed that a shocked, confused and even frightened expression had suddenly twisted Mykola's face. Why that was, the rat couldn't fathom.

"Mikky, what's th' matter?"

For long moments Mykola could only stare into the distance, intent distress warping his features, his breath actually starting to come in quick, shallow gasps. Then he stuttered, "N-Nothing, Liam. I just… I just have to be left alone for awhile… Please, let me be alone…"

And then he rose to his feet and hurried away, his limping gait exaggerated by his mood, and disappeared behind the east corner of the Abbey.

Liam was left alone on the grass outside the southern wall, dumbstruck by his fox friend's behaviour. What could he possibly have said to cause Mykola such distress? But then he too rose and strode after the Mykola, almost angrily, determined to get some answers.

Rounding the corner, he found the short-legged fox standing beneath the trees of the forest fringe with his back to the Abbey, about a stone's throw away from the east wall. Liam briskly walked toward him.

"No, I ain't gonna leave you be when ye're upset like this," he said stubbornly. "Ye're gonna tell me jus' what I said t' make you feel this away, an' – "

Grabbing the fox by the shoulder and spinning him around, Liam was stunned to see that Mykola was crying. The fox's arms hung limply at his side, his head bowed and his eyes closed while tears streamed down his cheeks to the accompaniment of suppressed sobs.

It was an utterly unmilitary sight; the rank-and-file soldiers considered crying to be a sign of weakness, and this held doubly for the officers who had to maintain their hard and disciplined facade. Even Mykola, widely recognized as more emotional and kindhearted than his equals, would have to feel uncomfortable with crying in private, let alone out in the open where the lowly soldierbeasts, his fellow foxes and civilian beasts might see him. Such a display would surely further lower the opinion many held of him. But at that moment he didn't seem to care. He simply stood there, miserable and despondent, allowing the tears to flow freely.

Liam, still unable to imagine what might have elicited such a reaction, leaned forward to ask gently, "Mykola, what'd I say that made you so upset? I don't understand…"

"Do you think that's why he was left at the Abbey?" Mykola asked in return.

"Who?"

"Wolfrum. We've been wondering why he of all creatures was chosen to remain behind at Redwall when the army left for Salamandastron. Do… do you suppose it could be that Lord Urthblood foresaw what would happen? Could he have perceived this tragedy, but allowed it to happen anyway because it would make Machus a hero to the Abbeydwellers?"

Liam was speechless at first. Then he tried to lighten the mood with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, Mikky, don't be silly! Even if Lord Urthblood coulda foreseen such an event, an' somehow knew it'd strengthen relations 'tween himself 'n' Redwall, that'd still mean he was willin' t' sacrifice Wolfrum, Smallert an' Speeg ... an' mebbe that mousechild as well, if Machus wasn't able t' save 'im, which woulda sunk th' whole scheme anyway. Can't you hear how ridiculous that sounds? He never woulda done somethin' like that." But then a shadow of doubt crossed Liam's face. "I mean, would 'ee…?"

Mykola gazed upon the rat with tearstained eyes. "I… I just don't know. I don't know if I can ever be sure about anything about that badger anymore."

For some reason, Liam was reminded of their meal in the orchard with Wolfrum two or three days ago (how distant that time seemed after everything that had happened since), when he and the other rat had joked about quitting Lord Urthblood's service and settling down at the Abbey. Mykola had been on the verge of considering such talk treasonous, yet the fox's present speculations concerning their badger master went far beyond banter about mere desertion. What Mykola now suggested would cast dire aspersions upon the very nature of Urthblood's purposes and motives.

Before Liam could comment on those seemingly perfidious words, Mykola pressed on. "What if that was the very reason Lord Urthblood spared him all those seasons ago, and let him join up with us? Everybeast among us has wondered many times why Wolfrum wasn't just slain along with the rest of his band, since he turned out to be such a troublemaker, and I always liked to believe it was because Lord Urthblood saw some promise for goodness within him that was simply lost on the rest of us. What if this was that promise? Could Lord Urthblood have kept Wolfrum on in spite of the many problems he would cause for the army, solely so that he could fulfil this purpose here at Redwall, and then be discarded after he'd done what was required of him?"

The rat was dumbfounded by those words - not so much because Mykola had the temerity to speak them aloud as because he was starting to fear that there might be some truth to them. But still, he had to try to talk the fox out of it.

"Mikky, he joined up with us eight seasons ago! Anything coulda happened in th' time since then. There's no way Lord Urthblood coulda predicted this would happen at Redwall!"

"Isn't there? Liam, there's so much I don't understand about fate and destiny and such arcane matters. I've heard beasts say you 'can't go against it,' that whatever happens does so because it was predetermined. I've heard Lord Urthblood talk about the future as if it's already happened, that he is absolutely certain some things will turn out one way or the other. And how he's supposed to be able to look into somebeast's eyes and tell whether that creature can turn out good or is beyond redemption. How could he do any of that, if the future hasn't already been decided to some extent? And if we go by that route… could yesterday's tragedy have been the entire reason Wolfrum was _born?_"

Liam couldn't believe his ears. "But… that's just insane! Wolfrum didn't even wield th' blade that did th' damage! D'you honestly think fer a moment that Wolfie's entire life was just about gettin' Speeg an' Cyrus mortally wounded by riling up Smallert? That's…that's..."

"Crazy? Maybe, but what if it's the truth? If the future is determined to the point that Lord Urthblood can predict it like he does, maybe Wolfrum was destined from birth to do what he did. And maybe Smallert was destined to go berserk and kill Speeg, who was destined to die upon the lawns of Redwall, and wound Cyrus, who was destined to be gravely injured and then saved by Machus, who was destined to become a hero to the Redwallers. And if Lord Urthblood foresaw all this and allowed it to happen anyway, then maybe it's because he too is simply following his own predetermined path through life…"

Having calmed himself somewhat to say all this, Mykola once again broke into heavy sobs, his breath ragged and discordant.

"And… and what if that's the case with all of us? What if we're all just… acting out parts in a play written at the dawn of Creation, unable to change our destiny or… or follow any other path than the one ordained for us? In that case, can Wolfrum be condemned for what he did, if he was doomed to commit his crime? Can… can the searats, slavers and all the villains we fight be condemned for what they do? And by the same token… what about creatures like us? I know you're a good soul, Liam… and I like to think I am too… but if we are just playing out those parts written for us, can we take any credit for whatever good qualities we have? We're just puppets dancing on the strings of whatever powers control the world…"

"Mykola, stop this! Ye're scaring me!"

"Well, why shouldn't you be scared?" the fox snapped back angrily at Liam, but immediately regretted his outburst. "I… I'm sorry, Liam… But everything just seems so confusing and uncertain right now. I know I should be a proper officer and an example to the rank-and-file, but I just can't do it now. I feel lost and frightened, as if…" His voice trailed off.

"As if…?" the rat inquired.

Mykola sighed, putting a tired paw to his forehead. "As if I don't even know what I'm living for anymore."

Liam just stood there in mute shock over his friend's words, unable to think of anything he could say that might comfort the distraught fox. After a lengthy silence, Mykola spoke again. "And it isn't just questions of prophecies and fate and destiny that trouble me. There was something Lady Mina said to me yesterday…"

He told Liam about the Gawtrybe Lady's harsh words in the orchard the night before, when she'd practically condemned him as detestable for his concern over beasts like Wolfrum - how it had made him feel empty and broken inside, and how her accusation had haunted him ever since.

"…and she said that I needed to 'grow up,' and that if I kept showing any compassion to such beasts, I'd be as much a lost cause as Wolfrum…"

The rat sergeant searched desperately for words to convince his friend otherwise. "Mikky, it… it ain't like that. Mina's a great warrior, greater'n I'll ever be, but she ain't all-knowin' 'bout eve'rything. She don't know what it's like bein' you, an' she sure as fur don't know what it's like bein' me. You don't hafta feel guilty over what she says, or take 'er every word t' heart…"

"Well, maybe I should," the fox cut him off. "Because… maybe she's right."

He looked away from Liam, staring sightlessly into the woods of Mossflower surrounding the Abbey, his expression and voice taking on a grim, harsh tone unusual for him.

"I mean, isn't it rather unethical to show such pity for evil beasts when others deserve it so much more? Maybe I am giving too much of myself to the wrong creatures. What have I been doing, really, wasting so much of my time with Wolfrum? What did it ultimately accomplish? I think… I think Mina was right. It's time I stop concerning myself so much with all the villains and nastybeasts in the world and refocused my attention on – "

Suddenly, Mykola felt a hard, stinging slap across his face. Rocked back on his heels from the blow, he raised a paw to the glowing heat spreading through his left cheek, staring in shock at the rat who'd delivered it. Liam stared back defiantly, refusing to be cowed or intimidated.

"I know I just struck a superior officer," he said before Mykola could speak. "If anybeast saw it an' reports me, I'll take th' consequences. Fur, if you wanna report it, I won't try'n stop you. They can give me twenty lashes, demote me, have me expelled from th' army… I don't care 'bout that now. All I care 'bout is breakin' you outta that cold'earted pit you fell inta, an' gettin' something inta that thick skull o' yours."

Liam may have been a mere sergeant, and a rat sergeant at that, outranked and outclassed and outmatched by any swordfox in Urthblood's army. Nevertheless, he now stepped forward until his whiskers nearly touched Mykola's, his eyes boring into the fox's, and spoke as if he were the Badger Lord himself giving a direct command to a fresh recruit.

"Don't you ever, ever, say anything like that again. Not t' yerself, not to any creature. 'Cos if you ever do, an' truly mean it, I won't ever be able t' forgive you fer it."

Giving those words a few moments to sink into the stunned fox, he then gripped both of Mykola's shoulders gently but firmly with his paws.

"Mikky… I'm just a lowly sergeant, not a seer or wisebeast. Ye're right t' say no ordinary creature can even begin t' work out all these issues 'bout destiny, fate, th' future or whether we're free in our choices, or if ev'rything's already been decided fer us. You can't, an' I can't neither. It's just too vast an' complex. But what I do know is, no matter what th' truth of the matter is, we can't live our lives without assumin' we do have th' power o' choice, that we can decide our futures an' steer our lives. If we don't, what's the fur-sodden point in going on? We may's well just lie down an' die in that case… if fate'd even allow us to.

"I mean, ain't the very point o' our campaigns to avert the crisis Lord Urthblood's foreseen? Why 'ud he even bother doin' that, if he didn't believe th' future can be changed? It's either that, or surrender t' despair 'cos we believe we're all doomed. If the future's preordained, then it don't matter anyway, does it? But if we are able t' make our own paths, we'd be fools t' waste th' chance an' give inta hopelessness!"

These words touched something within the fox, and soothed the despair he'd felt building up inside him. But Liam had more to say.

"As fer what Lady Mina said t' you yesterday, that's where she's comin' from. But she don't know us average soldierbeasts from rotten acorns. 'Course we want good 'n' innocent beasts t' prosper 'fore anything else. Mebbe yer outlook, an' mine too, ain't what she'd like it to be. But it ain't contrary to Lord Urthblood's law, no matter what she claims. I know this 'cos if it were, I'd be lyin' in a ditch somewhere instead o' holdin' a sergeant's rank in this army. She can call our sympathy feeble an' weak all she wants, but you 'n' me know better. An' I know one thing fer certain: it's a sign o' what a goodhearted, noble an' wonderful soul you are. If you was t' do as Mina says an' let go o' that part o' you, it wouldn't make you a greater beast - it'd reduce you ta somethin' much less.

"Y' know how it's said that all beasts, or at least all goodbeasts, have a special purpose in life? Ain't sure I believe that m'self, but let's say it's true. In that case, you could say th' purpose o' these Redwallers is to provide a sanctuary an' home fer all goodbeasts in need, t' take care o' them an' help them through their woes and sorrows. An' Lord Urthblood's purpose, an' ours too, is to create a new realm outta the lands, establishin' peace 'n' plenty fer its inhabitants, an' liberatin' those who're sufferin' under th' paws of evil beasts, makin' sure those villains will never trouble anybeast ever again. An' you know what I think th' purpose o' beasts like you 'n' me is?"

Mykola shook his head softly, guessing that Liam was about to supply his own answer.

"I think," Liam went on, "the purpose o' beasts like you an' me is t' show concern fer these evil souls, an' t' mourn over 'em. Our purpose is t' cry fer all th' murderers, slavers, bandits, thieves, scoundrels an' scum that nobeast else stops t' shed a tear fer. No matter how strange it might sound, I think somebeast hasta.

"Now some beasts, like Mina, would say it's immoral t' spare a care 'bout such villains when it takes away from showin' kindness to th' creatures they hurt. An' much as I'd like t' think our concern fer evil an' misbehavin' creatures doesn't mean we can't show it to th' good ones any less, it may be that we hafta devote less time to th' victims 'cos of it. Mina'd say it's wrong of us, but all I'd say is it's a tough choice we hafta make.

"Y'see, there's already so many beasts in th' world willin' t' show compassion, pity an' concern fer the innocent, an' who stir themselves t' help 'em… but almost nobeast willin' to do th' same fer those lost in th' ways of evil. There're so few who show any real desire t' help these creatures, to see 'em as anything but a vile menace to be put down fer the good of all, to mourn over their misfortunes whether they got their troubles through their own fault or no. An' 'cos we're so few in number, we gotta give all th' more of ourselves, 'cos nobeast else will.

"When you 'n' me come across such creatures, our first instinct is, and oughtta be, to help 'em an' show 'em a different path in life, even when everybeast else's given up on 'em or considers 'em unworthy o' any effort. I don't hafta tell you how many of 'em can't change, no matter how we'd be willin' t' help 'em, an' go to their graves without havin' reformed. Ev'rybeast deserves a chance at redemption an' fergiveness, but not ev'rybeast's able t' take it. Even so, we can't forget about 'em or lose our pity for 'em. If nothing else, we hafta mourn for what coulda happened, fer the beasts they coulda been if things'd just gone differently. An' if they truly were beyond help an' things really couldn'ta happened any other way… well, ain't that just as great a tragedy? That they was doomed t' walk on their path an' couldn't change it…"

Still keeping his paws on the fox's shoulders, he looked down and sighed.

"In all th' time I've served under Lord Urthblood, an' even 'fore that in my youth when I fought in a pillagin' horde 'longside my father, I've seen beasts who do… terrible things to others. I've seen all the misery that bandit gangs, or hordes like the one I belonged to, inflict upon their victims. An' I've seen what slavers do to the unfortunate beasts they slap in chains. Murder, torture, rape… when I was fortunate 'nuff not t' witness such things m'self, I still heard plenny o' stories secondpaw. An' it frightens me. It scares me that anybeast's capable of doin' such things t' others. It scares me to think what'll happen if we fail in our mission t' bring order an' security to th' lands. An' it scares me that I coulda so easily followed in their footsteps, if Lord Urthblood hadn't come along 'fore it was too late fer me."

He looked back up again, his eyes mournful and concerned.

"But what worries me most is that someday I'll come across an act so terrible, or a creature so vile, it'll make me lose my caring an' compassion. That all th' awful things I see durin' my travels will make me stop sympathizing with th' beasts we consider evil, that I'll become as harsh an' unforgiving as some in this army would want me t' be - as Lady Mina would want you t' be. That I'll lose a part o' myself I consider so vital an' precious.

"Yeah, you 'n' me're both able t' empathize with an' pity creatures like searat slavers, plunderin' thieves an' other villains, but that don't mean we excuse or forget their evil deeds. An' our first priority's allers gotta be stoppin' 'em from causin' harm to others, even if we hafta take their lives t' do so. An' just like ev'ry other soldier in this army, we allers gotta give comfort an' aid to all th' sufferin' goodbeasts of th' lands, an' not become so mired in our concern fer their tormentors that we forget about 'em instead. But even through all that, we gotta never lose sight o' who we are. True, it's our first duty t' look after th' welfare an' safety o' goodbeasts... but that comes naturally to any trained soldierbeast. It takes a great strength o' character, even if some might mock it as a weakness, to be willin' to extend that pity t' beasts we'd otherwise oppose, an' mebbe even hate. Never forget that, Mikky, an' don't lose that vital part o' yerself. 'Cos that'd be th' worst possible thing that could come outta these past few days."

He let go of Mykola's shoulders, looking gently and imploringly into the eyes of his vulpine companion.

"An' when you look back on yer seasons with Wolfrum, all th' times when you tried t' help him, all the trouble an' woes you went through but also th' good times you spent with 'im, never regret it, Mikky. If y' gotta regret anything, mebbe it could be that things didn't turn out like we all woulda wanted 'em to, but never regret the tryin'. 'Cos that's proof o' what a great, kind, an' amazing beast you are… an' how unbelieverbly grateful I am fer bein' able t' call you my friend."

For several more moments, the two of them just stood there on the verge of the forest outside the eastern wall of the Abbey, looking at each other, no words passing between them and no expressions betraying their thoughts. Then, Mykola reached out to his smaller partner, wrapping his paws around Liam's back while the rat returned the gesture, hugging his friend in the warmest, most sincere embrace he could ever remember giving anybeast. Once again tears welled up in the fox's eyes, trickling down his face and onto the rat's shoulder, but this time they were tears of joy, tears of hope, that truly felt good to shed.

It was an utterly unmilitary and undisciplined display that any proper swordfox would have frowned upon as sending the wrong image to the rank-and-file… and Mykola didn't care. Not at that moment. All that mattered was that he had somebeast like Liam in the world with him, somebeast who understood him so completely and shared his view on life and the world around them… and somebeast who could so effectively convince him to stay true to himself without caving in to the contempt and harsh words of his equals.

"Thank you, Liam… Thank you…" He could've said so much more to the rat, but he knew it wasn't necessary. Liam understood exactly how grateful the fox was to him, and didn't expect or demand any other words of appreciation.

"An' as fer Wolfrum," the rodent whispered soothingly into his ear, even though he knew nobeast else could hear them, "well, it may be up t' him now t' make 'is own way through life an' do th' best 'ee can with th' mercy you showed him, but allers have yer thoughts 'n' prayers with him, an' don't give up hope. Even if does stumble an' falter, even if he can't rise above 'imself in spite o' all you've done fer 'im an' he loses his life, remember it weren't never destined t' be that way. He coulda become diff'rent an' taken a better path, but time an' unfortunate circumstances happen to us all. All we can do is make th' best o' what we got, an' we hafta hope Wolfrum does that now. Don't give up hope, Mikky. There's always hope…"

Holding their embrace until both felt strengthened and replenished by it, fox and rat separated. Mykola pawed away the tears from his eyes and smiled at his dear friend. "I think I should go back inside now. They'll be wondering what I was doing out here, and if anybeast saw what we just did, I might have some explaining to do. Will you walk with me back to the wallgate?"

Liam smiled back. "You should know better'n havin' t' ask me that by now."

And so they turned to head back to the redbricked Abbey together, setting a deliberately slow pace to share each other's company awhile longer.

"Y' know," Liam said jokingly, "if they could make those kinda associations 'tween you 'n' Wolfrum based on that examination y' gave 'im under that spruce, whaddya think they'll make of what they just saw 'tween you 'n' me?"

"I don't know, Liam," the fox responded with mock-seriousness. "Let's hope they have better sense than that… though considering their history, I wouldn't hold my hopes too high if I were you."

The rat couldn't help but push the matter. "Y' wanna hold paws?" he teased.

"Bugger off!" the fox laughed. "Remember, I'm a swordfox. A softhearted, lame and foolish one, but a swordfox nonetheless. I can ignore whatever they say about me. _You_, on the other paw…"

"Yeah, I get ya," the rodent laughed back. Then he sighed. "Y'know, while I do love Redwall, I'm actually rather anxious t' be on th' road again. There's been so much unpleasant stuff goin' on here that really never shoulda happened, and it kinda taints th' whole experience. 'Sides, once we're done down here with Lord Urthblood's latest campaign and he's sorted out that mess with his brother, mebbe I could get re-assigned up north again. It's been too long since I visited my family…"

"Ah, yes," the fox replied, as they rounded the corner of the wall leading to the southern gate. "The village of Conwyn, wasn't it? Where your mother and younger brother live?"

"That's right. My brother's name's Kopec, by th' way; don't think I ever mentioned that. It'd do him some good t' see me again. He don't always get along well with other beasts, an' I'm one o' th' few he ever feels truly safe an' at peace with. Mother was a little disappointed he never chose t' join the army like I did, but I'm glad he never signed up. He shouldn't hafta see some o' the things I have, or be forced to submit to rigid hierarchy he'd never fit inta. Much better that he stays in Conwyn an' helps mother with her work."

They soon came to the southern wallgate. Mykola raised a paw to bid farewell to his rat friend but then paused as something else occurred to him.

"You know, what you said before, about feeling sympathy towards even the worst of villains, always having hope for everybeast and being all pitying and nice and all that… Does that apply to Cadogan too?" The fox said the last part with a sly grin.

A wicked smile spread across Liam's face. "Nah! Cadogan's th' one exception. T' Hellgates with him!"

The two friends shared a hearty laugh over this. Once their merriment subsided, Liam continued, "O' course we hafta extend our sympathy t' that louse. If we c'n give it to Wolfrum, we'd be th' worst kind o' hypocrites if we didn't do it fer Cadogan too. But I admit it's difficult sympathizin' with some nastybeasts sometimes… 'specially when they're respected, secure nastybeasts that get away with their misdeeds by puttin' the blame on others an' never get reprimanded themselves…"

Mykola put on a knowing smirk. "Maybe he had a bad childhood?"

Liam did the same. "Maybe 'ee's got a wife 'n' three kids t' support, an' the stresses of army life makes him take out his frustrations on others?"

The fox shot back with yet another suggestion. "Maybe he helps old shrew wives across the road and gives sweets to orphaned youngsters when nobeast is looking?"

The two friends broke into another fit of laughter, causing some of the otters standing lookout on the ramparts above to glance down at them in puzzlement.

"All that could be true," Liam giggled as their merriment subsided. "But in this story, I'm 'fraid he's just th' rude, arrogant liddle bonehead that caused so much trouble fer Wolfrum, us, an' ev'rybeast else."

After that they said their goodbyes, Liam heading back to rejoin his comrades in the southern meadow while Mykola was readmitted through the east wallgate, his talk with his rat friend leaving him with a joyful energy that rendered his limp barely noticeable as he once again strolled upon the fair grounds of Redwall Abbey.

THE END


End file.
